Second Chance
by Raven Hare
Summary: AU - Continuation of "The Gypsy and the Devil" Loyalties are tested and Faith is rewarded as others wait in Limbo.
1. Last Call

Please read "The Devil and the Gypsy" for the back story on these two.

* * *

"Oh, that's perfect...that's _just_ perfect!" Rachel spat at her steering wheel as her car sputtered to a stall in the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. She coasted to a stop, trying in vain to get the car cranked again. "Come on, you damn thing! You're a Bentley...you're too damned expense to break down!!" She beat the dash board in furious retribution.

"I'll be sure to let my Jaguar know that. She's stays in the shop more than she stays on the road." Came a slightly amused, masculine chuckle across from her. "I think she's having an affair with my mechanic..."

Rachel laughed in spite of herself. "Shut up!" she managed to hurl, while giving her car one last chance to redeem itself. It chugged and coughed...then went silent. She pushed herself away from the offensive, uncooperative piece of machinery.

The tall, russet haired man leaned over to peer at the insturment panel. "Sounds like it's out of gas..."

She glared at him. "No, Daniel, I am NOT out of gas, you moron..." Still, she stole a glance at the gas gauge...just in case. No luck, three quarters of a tank.

She picked up her cell phone from out of the console. "I'll call the car service to come get us." Her deft fingers indexing through her address book.

Daniel leaned back in his comfy leather seat. "Good luck with that." He smirked, as he over heard the _'signal not available'_ message leaking from the phone.

"So much for 'Verizon goes everywhere'..." the dark haired beauty snarled, throwing the phone down in a fit of rage. "Where is that annoying, little announcer man from the commercials. Shouldn't he be here with about a hundred service techs?" She peered over her shoulder as if she thought the might actually appear.

"That's just Hollywood magic, Ms. Donivan." Sighing, Daniel reached his muscular body down to the floorboard. "They've cut cell phone service to the tunnels temporarily, remember?" Daniel reminded her, pulling out the newspaper, pointing to the headlines.

"LATEST MUTANT TERRORIST ATTACK HEIGHTENS NYC SECURITY"

"Seems the Port Authority thinks that these genejokes who can blow shit up with their minds are going to start detonating bombs with their cells phones, instead..." The sarcastic humor in his voice was hard to miss.

But the humor, sarcastic or not, was lost on her. "Don't use that word in front of me." Her voice was harsh and firm.

"What word? Genejokes? Would you prefer 'Muties?'" Daniel chuckled again. Then he saw the look in her eyes. The look she got when she was going in for the kill. "Geez.. I didn't realize you went to the mutant sensitivity training class..."

She leaned across the seat, threateningly. Her fist clenched into tight balls, her jaw set in anger. "You are never.._.__**never**_ to use those slurs in front of me again. Do you understand?" He might have been twice her size and easily twice her weight, but he suddenly felt a sincere chill run up his spine. Maybe her personal assistant guy was wrong. Maybe she _didn't_ need protecting, after all.

Abruptly, Rachel yanked her door open, popped the trunk, and got out. Ignoring her rude compainon's orders for her to get back in before she froze to death or got her head shot off, the head of Donivan Enterprises clicked her high heels to the back of her car and dug through their luggage to find her purse. She held the black leather Prada in her freezing hands for a moment. How much had this thing cost? A thousand? Two thousand? Not that it really mattered, she grabbed the slim cellphone looking communicator out of it and slung the expensive piece of indulgence back in the trunk, callously. She had the cash to buy as many purses and shoes and trinkets as her weary heart desired. It didn't make her happy. Nothing made her happy. The closest she could get to feeling happy was to just feel...numb.

The tunnel was eerily empty. The latest rounds of mutant violence had spooked a lot of people she gathered from the papers. People were avoiding the tunnels and bridges. Which meant most people weren't leaving the island. But she had gotten over being scared a long time ago. She wasn't worried about_ if _she'd be killed...just when. She had made a lot enemies over the past several months. And the worst enemy she'd made was herself.

She stared at the gold X on the communicator. Tears stung her eyes. She didn't want to have to do this. Not him. He was the last person she wanted to talk to. And, she knew she had to be the last person on Earth he wanted to hear from. But, she was stranded in the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, in the middle of the night, in the freezing cold, with a broke down car and no cell phone reception. She was cold and exhausted and her feet hurt from wearing these ridiculous heels all day. All she wanted was to go to her condo, change into her pajamas, and crawl into a bottle of one of the many mind numbing distractions she'd had discovered since moving out of the institute. Since running away from home.

Four months, one week, two days....she glanced at her watch, which was every bit as expensive as her handbag...ten hours, and fourteen minutes. That is, if you were counting.

Four months, one week, two days, ten hours, and fourteen minutes since she abandoned the only family she had left.

Four months, one week, two days, ten hours, and fourteen minutes since she had told the man she loved, the man she couldn't live without - she was leaving.

Four months, one week, two days, ten hours, and fourteen minutes since she had made the worst mistake of her life.

And, given her track record, she had thousands of mistakes to choose from.

Her fingers completely numb, she pressed the top button just like he'd shown her. He had every reason to hate her; every reason to write her off and get on with his life. But that wasn't his way. Instead, he'd given her this communicator; in case she was ever in trouble.

In case she ever needed him...

She waited for this super duper signal to be picked up on its dedicated frequency, possibly by the Star Ship Enterprise given the high tech gleam of the techno-bauble. There was a catch in her throat and it was hard to keep the emotion out of her voice as she heard that familiar voice on the other end. His tone was alarmed, concerned, protective – ready and willing to come to her rescue...like always.

"Rachel??" The slender box spoke out in a Germanic accent that made her close her eyes and lean against the trunk of her car for support. "Rachel? Is that you??"

"Yeah, Kurt....It's me." The one you loved and protected and thought the sun rose and set on. _Yeah, it's me_.

The one who ran out on you when you needed her most...four months, one week, two days, ten hours, and fourteen minutes ago– That is, if you were counting...


	2. A Pefect Life

_Six months ago...._

Trying to catch the breath she'd taken away, Kurt laid on top on Rachel a moment longer before rolling off and pulling her close in a loving embrace. In turn, his wife nuzzled up to his side, laying her head in the hollow of his shoulder, wrapping a long, bare leg over him. The sun had barely begun to illuminate their bedroom as morning dawned. The two had discovered making love early in the morning was a perfect way to start the day.

Over the baby monitor in the nursery, they could hear Gracie beginning to stir in her crib. With a sigh, Rachel knew the baby would be wanting her breakfast soon and her body began responding to that stimulus. But for now, still flushed from her climax, she laid close to her Blue, running her fingertips over his muscular chest, loving the feel of his velvety skin up against her naked body.

Idly, she fingered the silver crucifix that lay gleaming against his dark fur in the pale light. It had been a Father's Day present to replace the one guards had ripped off him when he was imprisoned at Alkali Base. This one, like the original, never left his neck.

The couple had established new lives here since landing at Xavier's school four months earlier. Rachel had settled into the role of wife and mother. Kurt had adopted the role of X-Man. She would have been lying if she'd said she was thrilled with Kurt's desire to join Xavier's elite team. And, even now, she got a lump in her throat and a hard knot in her stomach when she watched the Blackbird winging away from her over the horizon. Knowing that there might very well be a day when Kurt would not be coming home.

But, even though she still struggled with her fear, a sizable amount of pride in her husband was there too. And, it didn't hurt that he struck a fine figure in his form fitting, ultra flexible, kevlar armored uniform. In fact, the first time she'd actually seen him in it, the first thing she'd wanted to know was how fast she could get him out of it...

Kurt all but purred with contentment as he ran Rachel's long hair through his three fingers. He took his responsibilities as husband and father very seriously. He had prayed that this school would be a good, safe place for his little family. It was that and so, so much more.

Gracie had been born within days of their arrival here. She was over a month early. Dr. McCoy suspected Rachel had been in process of being induced as he found substantial amounts of Pitocin in her blood stream. But, even without that, the tremendous strain on her – both physical and mental – was plenty enough to push her into labor. A cesarean was very risky given her physical state. But, between her broken ribs, bruised body, and shattered mental state, they had all wondered if she would even be able to give birth any other way.

Kurt remembered holding Rachel's hand, watching helplessly, as his wife struggled to bring Gracie into the world. Fortunately for them, Aunt Lumi was an old hand at midwifing and after a long, exhausting labor that Rachel couldn't have survived without her help – tiny Luminista Grace was born. With the exception of her slim tapered tail and mutated two-toed feet, she was a tiny replica of her mother.

Kurt loved Gracie with an intensity he'd never known before when he held her in his arms for the first time. It was the kind of love that inspired men to change the world. So, when Xavier approached him with an offer to join the X-Men's team, he gladly accepted. Rachel had been slow to give her blessing. He understood her fears and did his best to ease her apprehension. But, even after she gave in to his desire, he still saw fear cross her features every time he got ready for a mission.

"I'm coming back." He'd always promise, taking her and holding her close. "I'm not going to leave you or Gracie." Little did he know that, one day, she would be the one to leave.

Rachel started to pull herself out of bed, as Gracie's sighs and cooings began to turn into whimpers and grunts. Kurt pressed her back down with a long, sound kiss.

"I'll go get her." He whispered, pulling on his pajama bottoms, giving his daughter's mother a few more minutes of peace and quiet. She heard him picking Gracie up and pleasantly conversing with her in German. And, while she was grateful she had a husband who never shrank from his share of domestic duties, she wished he'd hurry as her chest was becoming painfully swollen and sore. He brought a hungry, freshly diapered Gracie into their room. She babbled insistently to her father as he nodded his head and agreed with her. Sheets pulled around her form, Rachel shook her head and held out her arms to receive the child. Sometimes she felt, if she wasn't breast feeding, she'd never get the chance to hold her daughter.

Kurt felt a certain kind of pride and contentment as Rachel settle Gracie in and he watched the infant nursing at Rachel's breast. He perched above them, his feet grasping the bedpost easily, his tail curled up behind him. He looked like some kind of guardian gargoyle watching over the mother and child.

It used to embarrass Rachel when he'd watch her feeding Gracie, now it was a chance for the two of them to talk or plan, or just a chance for the three to spend time together.

By now, the sun was fully up and the school was coming to life. Kurt lazily crawled off his sentry position and stretched, working the rest of the kinks out of his long, limber frame. "I have to go to Vancouver today. The professor wants us to meet with officials there. There seems to be-"

"Today?" Rachel interrupted. By the surprised, slightly skewed look on her face, he knew he'd forgotten something.

"What?" he asked, grateful his wife was far more organized that he was. She kept heir home from falling into chaos.

Rachel shrugged. "Nothing." She shifted Gracie around to the other side to finish nursing. "I was just going to have those tests run today. But, I can reschedule. It's no big deal." She brushed it off. The thought of medical tests and examinations scared Rachel to the point she almost had to have a sedative. So, having an excuse to beg off from them was fine with her.

Kurt's hand went to his forehead. He had told Rachel he'd be at the mansion the day she had scheduled her appointment.

"Ach!" He cried out. "No, you have already rescheduled those tests twice, now!" He admonished her. Hank was going to string her up by her toes if she skipped out again. "I will see if I can get a baby sitter."

Rachel sighed. "All right, but if you can't I _really _don't mind." She gripped her free hand, to try to stop her tremors. "I don't think the results are going to be any different from last time." She smiled, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. The serum forced on her at Alkali lake had caused permanent damage to her fine motor control. It was predominately in her hands, causing them to tremble slightly. It wasn't going to end her life. But it did effectively end her veterinarian career. Without the motor control needed to perform surgery, gather samples, ready IV's, or one of the hundreds of other duties vets carried out, she felt obligied to give up her license. She was kept busy with her family, and would have probably let her license expire anyway. But, the fact that her the career she loved was taken away from her birthed an anger that always burned just beneath the surface.

* * *

It seemed everyone at the school was busy doing something that day. Even Kitty, who normally jumped at the chance to take care of Gracie, had to beg off. Kurt was just about to give up when Rachel's uncle, Joe Donivan, pulled into the drive. He and Rachel's Aunt Lumi got out of Joe's Escalade.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise!" Kurt beamed, clasping hands with his wife's uncle, then wrapping Lumi in a firm, but gentle hug as they came into the foyer.

After Gracie's birth, Kurt's sister, Jemaine, was called away by her mother to parts unknown. Lumi, had stayed here in America, rather than go back to Germany. Joe had invited her to stay at his manor in Georgia...Rachel's childhood home. The place where Rachel's mother, Rawnie's, spirit rested.

"I wish I could say it's all pleasure, but I'm here on business." Joe was bigger than life with silver hair and a matching silver beard that made him appear roguish and suave and very handsome. After learning of the lab Kurt had been imprisoned at when he was kidnapped in Germany, Joe had gone on a crusade to clean up his brother's company. Rachel had done her part by diverting hundreds of millions from her trust funds towards buying up stock. Between the two of them, and a very generous gift from Professor Xavier on behalf of the school, they were able to purchase a controlling share of Donivan Enterprises. "Dr. McCoy and I are meeting with the president's cabinet tomorrow." Joe had made some enemies, but in doing so he'd brought to light a disturbing arena of research using mutants as unwilling test subjects. Not just at Donivan Enterprises, but in many Bioresearch companies. It was enough to keep you awake at night.

"Speak for yourself!" Lumi thin body shouldered past the two men. Her thick accent continued. "I'm here to see my two girls!" Her withered frame was small and slight in stature, but that feeble coil held a powerful spirit that had been the family's beacon during many dark days. Kurt was respectful by nature, but he held a special reverence for this woman. Enough so that his daughter was her name sake. He firmly believed Gracie wouldn't be here at all without Lumi. Perhaps none of them would be. As he watched her make her way up the stairs, it occurred to him...

"Lumi!" He called out, catching up to her. The old woman turned her head questioningly. "Would you mind watching Gracie this afternoon?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" She teased her devout nephew by marriage.

A good natured grin crept over his features as he nodded, shrugging. "The last time I checked." He winked.

* * *

"She is getting so big!" Lumi doted on the infant as Gracie enjoyed the attention, alternately smiling and looking surprised at her great aunt's expressions. The old spinster turned a wizen eye towards the new mother.

"You're already trying for another child." It wasn't so much a question as an open ended statement. She was answered by Rachel's blush.

Rachel sat down on the sofa as she felt her cheeks heat up. Neither of them had actually come out and said it, but she had hesitantly brought up the subject of using 'protection.' She knew most Catholic husbands as devout as hers would have been livid at the suggestion. But, she still felt that same warmth through her that she felt when Kurt responded to her fear with an encouraging smile. His voice was soft and soothing as he caressed her. "Would it be such a bad thing if we had another child?" He'd whispered. At that, she was completely won over. She let him inside her as he loved away any uncertainties she might have had.

Rachel cleared her throat as she realized she'd been silent too long. "Well..." she answered, diplomatically. "We're not _**not**_ trying to get pregnant." In actuality, as many mornings as they had spent wrapped around each other, it would be a miracle if she wasn't pregnant again already.

Lumi smiled, starting to speak again, then fell silent. A dark shadow seemed to fall over her.

"Lumi?" Rachel reached out for her aunt, concerned at her expression. "Are you all right?"

Shaking her head as if to clear it, Lumi's smile returned. "Just someone walking over my grave." She assured her niece. Then she held the baby up to her mother, as Gracie began pouting. "I think someone is ready for her lunch." She smiled.


	3. Best Laid Plans

The Audi arrived so quickly, it left Rachel wondering if Kurt had learned to teleport entire cars. She'd been able to explain away her magical phone call to Daniel by way of a dedicated emergency frequency. Her personal assistant _had_ mentioned she might should get one. Especially after what happened to her uncle. But, she reminded the ditz that if that ever became the case...she never get the chance to use it. In truth, if Daniel weren't here, she might not have called for help at all. Authorities _might_ have just found her frozen corpse curled up in the back seat tomorrow morning.

Well, enough for the pity party, she had company. She forced a smile as the car pulled up and parked slightly ahead of them. A handsome, dark haired, man stepped out. _So, he's all humaned-up tonight._ She thought, sourly. But, then with all the ill sentiment against mutants lately, she didn't honestly blame him. The natives were restless. No need to make yourself a target if you didn't have to.

She started to open her car door, only to have him beat her to it. He was a gentleman to the bitter end. She took a deep breath and got out. There was a lump in her throat that threaten to choke her into lightheadedness. It was the first time she's seen him since she'd packed her bags and left.

"Thanks for coming, Kurt." She said, with an uncomfortable sincerity. "I know you gave me that communicator for emerg-" She was going to tell him again that he could have just called her service for her, but stopped short at Kurt's shocked, wide-eyed stare.

"What?"

Without even thinking, the stunned mutant reached out in the freezing cold and touched her hair. As long as he had known her, even back to their childhood, Rachel's hair had been long and dark and beautiful. How many times had he buried his head in that softness as they made love? Felt it tickle his face when they laid down to sleep? Watched it sway in a breeze or swing playfully from a careless pony tail?

"Your hair...." he faltered, touching the painfully short locks.

For a moment, Rachel stood frozen by the warmth of his hand, her eyes fixed to his. Then, self consciously, she diverted her eyes to the ground and stroked down her severely cropped hair, so short it didn't even cover the acid burned scar on the back of her neck. "Yeah...I cut it short..." she stumbled around for a good reason why. The two were locked in an awkward moment. They were started out of it by the blaring horn of a lone driver as he barreled past them in the tunnel.

Kurt switched to X-Man mode. "This could very well be an emergency. Your car mysteriously stalls in the tunnels in the dead of the night. Makes you a sitting duck, don't you think?." He motioned her out from the behind the car door she'd been using as a shield.

It was hard to tell if he was moving so quickly because he was trying to limit the amount of time they spent in the sub freezing cold or the amount of time he had to spend in her company. "Get in the car, please." He pulled her by the arm, gently but firmly. All the while looking around, warily.

Rachel concurred. She was tired and her feet hurt. "We can either leave our stuff here or Daniel can help you transfer it." she volunteered him as she sat down.

"Daniel?" He was obviously confused, looking over his shoulder. He watched the other man getting out of the passenger side of Rachel's car. Kurt tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his scowl.

Daniel, oblivious to the scrutiny grabbed Rachel's purse and laptop out of the back and trotted towards them. "I guess you already called shot gun?" He smiled tersely as he struggled to get his tall frame into the back of the two seater. He resembled something approaching a human pretzel as he tried to fit into a space much too small for him.

Shutting the passenger door, Kurt hopped to his side and quickly got in. If the possibility of attack wasn't enough to get him moving, the bitter cold was. He hadn't felt cold like this since he'd last been in Germany. He spared a glance over at his estranged wife. Since their honeymoon in the Alps. He ground his teeth and urged the Audi forward, leaving the Bentley behind to her fate. As soon as they were out of the tunnels and cell reception was recovered, Rachel called her car service and they _promised_ to pick it up right away.

The conversation was almost nonexistent as the trio made their way into Brooklyn. Daniel could feel the tension and unease between the two in the front seat. Surely, this Kurt Wagner had to be a friend of Rachel's for him to come rescue them. But, the two had barely spoken a word to each other since they'd gotten in the car. He sighed. There wasn't much about Rachel that made sense, anymore. Why should her friendships?

Kurt drove the car through the gathering patches of ice with expert ease. His anger rose every time he looked in the rear view mirror and saw Rachel's male companion. He had foolishly hung onto the hope that maybe there was some chance they could work things out. Some chance that she would come back to him. But, looking at the handsome human in the back again, it would seem that Rachel was getting along just fine without him.

His eyes darted towards the passenger beside him. Even with her ultra short hair, she was feminine and beautiful. But there was a hardness to her now. It had been a shock to see her so different...so changed.

Kurt started to feel guilty. Maybe he was just being selfish. She _had_ tried; she had tried so hard for him...for their family. Maybe he owed it to them both to just let go. Let her be happy. Try to find some measure of happiness himself. His hand unconsciously moved to his crucifix hiddened under his shirt, suddenly as heavy as a millstone around his neck.

Rachel sat still as street lights illuminated the interior of the car. She wanted to kick her shoes off and rub her aching feet, but instead, she kept herself under tight control, her hands clasped together. She stole glances at Kurt, trying to size up his demeanor. She couldn't help but notice he was angry, but she had no idea why. If he hadn't wanted to come get her, he could have called her car service. Hell, she'd offered that right up front. Asked him to just relay a message for her. But, he'd insisted on coming all the way down here himself. Now, what? Was he angry about that? It made no sense.

Then her eyes drifted back towards him, almost shyly. Maybe, he just wanted to see her, again... Maybe, they could work things out? Maybe...maybe, he could find it in his heart to forgive her and she could go home??

No.

Rachel let her gaze drop down to her hands sitting in lap. Of course, he'd forgive her. It seemed impossible for that man to hold a grudge. The real problem was that she couldn't forgive herself. She made her bed. Now, she was determined to lie in it. No one should have to take her back after the things she'd said to him.

* * *

_Six months ago_

Standing in their bedroom, watching Kurt get ready, Rachel couldn't help but speak the same words she always did. "Be careful." The two stood in the quiet of their on-campus apartment. Kurt turned and stood toe to toe with her.

He'd already told her that this was a cake walk. Just a meeting with officials. More of an information gathering trip than anything. But, Rachel's incarceration had left her with an almost phobic aversion to leaving the safety of the mansion. Gracie, who was down for her nap at the moment, had never even been off the campus grounds. He would never have left the school either, if it had been up to his wife.

With a comforting smile, he push a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I'll be back before dark." He promised. He stared a moment longer, then leaned down as she tilted her head up. Their lips touched purposefully. Drawing her into his arms, he deepened his kiss, his tongue silently begging entrance into her mouth.

With a moan, Rachel parted her lips and shuddered as Kurt explored her. Drawing away from her for a moment, his eyes drifted to their bed. "I have a little time before I have to leave." he offered, suggestively pressing her against him, letting her feel the hard need in him that just kissing her caused.

For a moment, he thought she might say no, then her smile grew wide.

"Well, then..." She cleared her throat, pushing him down on the bed. "let me give you a good send off."

In an urgent, but unhurried fashion, they disrobed and, for a moment, just held each other tight. Then, Rachel wrapped her legs around him, drawing him into her, burying her face in the crook of his neck. The two clung to each other as they made love, sighs and gasps escaping between them. They moved together, harder and faster, until their release came and the lovers shuddered and fell against the bed, whispering words of love to each other in their own separate tongues.

Holding each other close, they were quiet for several minutes. Kurt finally spoke.

"You know, if I had more send offs like this, I'd probably go on more missions." Kurt chuckled, rolling on his back and pulling Rachel's naked form on top of his. She lay straddled over him with her head resting on his chest; her eyes closed as she listened to his beating heart start to slow down to a decent rhythm.

"Hmmm...." she mumbled against him. "You're not helping your case here, Blue." she smiled as he rubbed his hands over her, feeling every slender curve. The tip of his spaded tail, slid down her bare spine sending delicious shivers all the way up to the base of her skull.

He laughed at her retort. She could hear the smooth rumble from inside his rib cage as her ear was pressed against it. Slowly, she felt herself being displaced back onto the bed as she gave a disgruntled sigh.

"I know. You're going to be late." She concurred, now staring up at him. God, he was handsome. Not the traditional handsome you saw in magazines, but his own brand of good looks. She loved the way his pitch black hair waved over his forehead and _almost_ hid his pointed ears. The way his teeth seemed impossibly white against his dark blue lips when he smiled his trademark grin, exposing his slightly fanged canines. But, she loved his eyes the most. Even without irises, his eyes were incredibly expressive. Large and round when he was surprised. Narrowed to gleaming slits when his was angry. They even seemed brighter or dimmer, depending on his mood.

Kurt closed those eyes as he leaned down to kiss her once more....twice more. By the third kiss, he almost decided to go Awol and blow off the mission all together, especially when he felt his wife's legs starting to wrap around him again. Balling his hands into determined fists, he pulled away. If he didn't leave now, he wasn't going to leave at all.

After reluctantly getting dressed, the two made their way into the living room. Kurt took her hand and kissed it tenderly. He held it fast as he felt it trembling slightly.

_Damn them. _

The serum he'd been given had worked its way out of his system with no ill side affects. But, in humans, the massive dosages required to maintain effectiveness had eroded the neural synapses in Rachel's extremities, causing the nerve endings to misfire, making her hands shake. All the testing so far indicated that the damage was irreversible. Kurt would, eventually, recover from what they'd done to him. Rachel would be reminded of it daily for the rest of her life.

* * *

Rachel heard the stealthed sound of the Blackbird doing a vertical take off when Lumi knocked on her front door. She had Gracie on the changing table so just called out for her aunt to let herself in. The first thing Lumi heard was her great niece's cold.

"How long as Gracie had that cough?" Lumi asked, her old eyes narrowing with concern. After letting out another tiny cough, Gracie giggled up at her aunt and mother, wriggling wildly and her tail coiling mischievously.

Rachel reached under the changing table for a clean diaper. She was starting to wish she'd bought stock in Pampers as well as Donivan Enterprises. "A few days. I think it's just allergies." She reasoned, not wanting to be one of these mothers who fell apart every time her baby sniffled.

Lumi gave a testy sigh. There was nothing wrong in being worried about your child. "We'll make her some licorice tea. That always worked for Kurt."

Rachel chuckled. It was a little known piece of trivia that Kurt _hated_ licorice. She wondered idly if that was the reason why. "Sorry, Lumi. Kurt made it a house rule. No licorice." She chuckled as she carried Gracie out into the living room.

Unswayed, the old gypsy followed, holding the infant's pacifier in her hand. Gracie eyed it wantingly. "Do you want this, little one?" She waved it in her gnarled hands. Gracie made a discontented sound as she clutched her hands towards the prize.

Rachel sat on the sofa and held Gracie upright on her lap. "I think you're going to have to get it yourself, baby girl." she laughed as Lumi also sat and held it just out of reach.

With impressive speed for a four month old, Gracie's tail lashed out and snagged the pacifier with ease. And, an almost smug expression washed over her content face as the pacifier was shoved into her tiny mouth and she started making little, muffled cooing sounds.

"I don't think Kurt was able to do that until he was six months old." Lumi smiled, obviously impressed. "You might just be a child prodigy." Her compliments were cut short by another rounds of coughs causing Gracie to spit out her pacifier. She cried in frustration over her loss. Rachel handed Gracie to Lumi and, picking up the pacifier, went to wash it off.

Lumi frowned. "I will have Joe take us to town to get some licorice tea, while you are at your appointment." Her tone bore no argument.

Rachel felt her pulse jump as she turned off the faucet. "Why don't I just pick some up while I'm out?" She countered. A cold anxiousness crawl up her spine.

"Nonsense, Rachel." Lumi soothed her worried niece. "I have to go pick up a few things anyway. And, who knows when you're going to be back." She took Gracie out of her mother's arms. "Besides the sooner we get that tea, the sooner our little one will start feeling better."


	4. Paradise Lost

Ok, you all...I see you reading out there...how's about you review and tell me what you're thinking??

* * *

"That's my Brownstone right up there with the holiday flag out front." Daniel pointed, uselessly from the back seat. The neatly kept townhouse blended into the row of historic homes that stood side by side. Each one a mirror of the next. The last one on the block had a greeting flag blustering to and fro with red and green holly embroidered on a brilliant white background, suspended from it's pole by a shiny gold cord. Kurt glided into the parking space in front of the building. Rachel climbed out, and held the seat forward for the backseat passenger.

"Why don't the two of you come in for coffee?" he suddenly offered, bundling up his trench coat against the cold. He gave an appeasing look going from Kurt to Rachel. "It's the least I can do."

For a second, it looked like Rachel might actually agree. Then she caught a subtle mannerism from Kurt that she interpreted almost subconsciously that made her decline. "You know, bad weather is moving in and I know Kurt wants to get back home." She begged off.

Daniel looked a little disappointed, then nodded. "All right, then." He leaned into the car. "Thanks again, Kurt." Ironically, he was oblivious to the fact that he had been rescued and delivered safely home by the same species he had been bad mouthing not an hour earlier.

Kurt raised his hand to wave good night. "Anytime..." he smiled, unconvincingly. He watched as Daniel hopped up the steps, his glare turning his eyes into glowing slits beneath his image inducer as Rachel climbed back in. Kurt was grateful that, at least they'd not lip locked with each other in front him. He didn't think he could've handled that.

As Rachel settled back in, she couldn't help it, she had to know what was going on inside that head of his. As Kurt reached to put the car in gear, instead of reaching for her seat belt, she slapped his hand and grabbed hold of the gear stick. "Ok, What is it?? What's with the Gestapo routine?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Kurt lied darkly, trying to get control of the gears back. Rachel wouldn't budge.

"Lying is a sin, Kurt Wagner. I can read you like a dime store novel. We're not leaving this spot until you tell me what's got your tail up your ass." She got her fighting face on, the one she wore to board meetings. The one Daniel got to experience when he'd unknowingly slurred her husband and child.

_Lying is a sin?...What about adultery? _Kurt's mind cried out as he silently longed to lash out against her. But, he didn't say it. Enough hurtful things had been said between them already.

Instead, he gave her a scathing look. Inside, she wanted to fall apart at his angry stare. But she couldn't let herself. She couldn't afford to let herself be weak in front of him. She had seen enough of the X-Men's activities to know that Kurt had finally gotten his life back together. If he saw her break down, he might feel obligated to comfort her. If she let him put his arms around her, she'd make a fool of herself. She didn't have much pride left, but she had to cling to what little there was.

"You didn't have to come get us yourself, you know. I told you that you could've called a car serv-"

"You could have _told_ me you were on a **date**!" Kurt interrupted, turning a hurt, angry snarl on her. God, had she really become that heartless? Did she _really_ think it wouldn't hurt him...make him angry to see her with another man?? Couldn't she see, despite it all, he still loved her? That he wanted her back?? Why else would he have dropped everything and come running when she called? He gripped the steering wheel harder with his disguised hands. He was a fool.

Rachel's combative facade fell in confusion. "Wh.....Date?" She was honestly bewildered. Then it dawned on her. "Wait..." She thumbed towards the brownstone Daniel had disappeared into. "You thought that I was on a...with _Daniel_?" She didn't know whether to laugh or slap him. Did he really think she could ever be close to anyone other than him? Was he that damned clueless?? Of course, after everything she'd said. The things she accused him of...She pushed it away. That was water under the bridge now.

But, for Daniel's sake, she needed this settled. She opened her door back up. "Get out of the car." she ordered, stepping out herself.

Kurt started to protest. "Rachel, I don't want to fight with you..." He sighed. "And, if I don't get back soon I won't be-"

"Get. Out."

Kurt had learned a long time ago that sometimes it was easier to move the mountain than Mohamed. So, he followed her to the front steps, waiting for whatever evidence she had to prove to him that she wasn't breaking any of the commandments. Or, at least number six.

It didn't take long to vedicate herself.

Daniel wore a surprised look as he opened the door to the two standing in the cold. "Rachel...Kurt-"

"We changed our minds." Rachel nearly beamed. "If the offer is still open, we'd LOVE that cup of coffee."

"That's great!" Daniel laughed. "Come on in, get out of the cold!" He brought them in, taking their coats and putting them in the closet. Kurt couldn't help but stare at Rachel for a moment as he pulled off her long, black wool coat. He'd rarely seen her dressed in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt...usually a t-shirt she'd stolen out of _his_ dresser. For Mass, she'd wear an appropriately modest dress or pants suit. But this was a look he'd not seen before. Her red skirt was revealingly short. Any shorter and it would have been in bad taste. Her blouse was white silk, clinging to her curves, leaving just enough to the imagination. But, he didn't need to use his imagination. He knew, very well, what was under that blouse and skirt. Feeling heat rise up in him, he forced his eyes look elsewhere.

Daniel's home was warm and inviting. The original oak woodwork gleamed with a new finish that was still apparent in the vague smell of lacquer and polyurethane. The hardwood floors were artfully littered with throw rugs and the brief hallway opened up into a spacious, yet cozy, living room. A real wood fire place added warmth and ambiance as the flames crackled and danced.

"Rory!" Daniel called over his back. "We've got company." At the call, another man appeared out the far side of the comfy den, drying his hands with a dish towel. A 'Kiss the Cook.' apron was slung over one shoulder. "Rory, you remember Rachel Donivan. This is her friend Kurt Wagner."

Rory stood the shortest of the four of them, his dark hair tussled slightly. He had a certain something about him that made Kurt feel like he was about to be terribly embarrassed for his outburst in the car. The three shook hands. "Rachel, It's good to see you again!" he offered in honest hospitality, leaning in to give her a hug. Daniel's boss-slash-best friend from college. He suspected she might just be the reason Daniel liked brunettes...

"You too, Rory." Rachel smiled, returning the hug. She seemed perfectly at home in this brownstone. Obviously, she had been a guest here before.

Rory turned an interested eye to the new guest. Rachel had never mentioned she was seeing someone... "And, you must be Kurt." He extended a hand, which Kurt accepted returning the handshake. "I understand I have you to thank for getting Daniel home safe." He continued, sliding an arm around his partner.

_I'm going to kill her._ Kurt thought, off balance and mentally reeling from his horribly bad intuition. But still he smiled. "It was no problem. I was glad to help." It was hard for him to know if he was smiling out of courtesy or relief.

* * *

_Six months ago..._

"I don't want her in town, Lumi." Rachel was insistent as she and her aunt and her uncle debated. Gracie fussed a little, sensing her mother's tension and she was nestled against her shoulder. Rachel was on the verge of refusing and canceling her appointment all together if that was what it took. She'd rather face Hank's fury that risk the possibility of her precious daughter being assaulted by a mutant hater. But, before she could act, Joe picked up his great niece out of her mother's arms and hefted her tiny weight in his strong arms. She grinned an adorable, toothless smile as she put her fingers in his beard.

"She's just going to wait in the car with me, Rachel. I swear, she'll be fine." he promised. "But, if you don't get moving, your going to be late for your appointment."

Rachel felt helpless. She wished Blue was still here. But, the Blackbird had left more than an hour ago. Kurt could tell them 'no.' But, she just couldn't seem to do it. Despite a horrible sense of dread, Rachel, hesitantly, gave up her fight. "Just be careful." She begged. Gracie had not left Xavier's estate since she'd been born. After experiencing first hand what some humans were capable of doing, she was terrified for her baby.

Lumi put a comforting arm around the younger woman and spoke reassuring words as they walked down the steps, through the garage and out into the courtyard where Joe had left his Escalade. She bit her lip as she watched Joe slip the infant into the car seat and buckled her in. Rachel thought she might hyperventilate as she leaned in and kissed her baby girl goodbye. Gracie grinned up at her and made adorable cooing sounds. For a moment, she stroked her soft cheek and held her tiny hand, while her tail wrapped around her mother's wrist. Finally, unable to draw it out any longer, she retreated from the interior of the SUV.

Joe wrapped his favorite niece - his only niece - in a great hug. "We'll be back before you will." He promised comfortingly, then held the door open for Lumi who almost hesitated before stepping inside. Then, shook her head and climbed inside with help from Joe and Rachel.

Rachel managed a weak smile, as she fought her fears back into her anxiety closet. This was her Uncle Joe and her Aunt Lumi. Gracie was as safer in that car, than anywhere else on Earth. The men who had hurt her, hurt Kurt, hurt untold numbers of mutants were all dead at the bottom of Lake Alkali. She couldn't live her life in fear. She _wouldn't._ She wouldn't let them make her and her family prisoners. With that thought firmly planted in her mind, Rachel pulled the keys out of her jeans pocket and walked stoically towards her BMW.

_Everything is fine. Gracie will be fine. There's nothing to worry about. She's not even going to get out of the car. Everything is fi-_

That was the last thought that went through Rachel's mind when she heard an odd click as Joe turned the ignition. Then, she was deafened by an explosion that literally threw her into the ground. Wrenching her head around, all cognitive thought, even the ability to scream, evaporated as she saw an enormous fireball envelope her entire family.


	5. Harsh Realities

_Six months ago..._

Shock keeping her from feeling the vicious impact of her head against the tiled drive, Rachel scrambled off the ground and raced towards the inferno as if there was something she could do to help those she loved inside. She would learn later it was Piotr, Colossus, who saved her life by grabbing her and using his organic steel body to shield her from the heat and spewing debris that rained down on them. From beneath his massive frame, Rachel shrieked, insanely, as she watched the SUV engulfed in flames that licked around its victim hungrily, billowing sick black clouds to the heavens. She bit and kicked and clawed to get to her doomed family, but Colossus held her tight.

Iceman put a quick end to the fiery carnage, but it was too late to help the victims. When it was over, there was nothing of the Escalade but a raw twisted cage. Anyone available was scrambled into action by Xavier's telepathic command. The scene was one of organized chaos as mutants canvased the area looking for clues to make sense of what had just happened.

But Rachel saw none of it. Her eyes were fixed in her head. She stared ahead unseeing, as she sat on the charred grass. Her clothes were covered with ash and bits of debris. Blood oozed down the side of her face and neck from an open gash in her temple. Hank McCoy's foot falls made crackling noises over the burnt patches of lawn as he approached.

Her dazed stare did not seem to alter as he spoke. "Rachel. I need you to come with me. You're injured." It was easy to see that she was in shock. She was wrapped in a bubble of sweet denial as she mumbled.

"Sorry, Hank, I can't. I have to go..." She ran a filthy soot covered hand over her equally dirty face smearing blood into her dark hair. "Kurt promised to watch Gracie while I go to have those tests run..." Then she promptly and very appropriately passed out.

* * *

The Blackbird was half way to Vancouver when they got the transmission calling Nightcrawler back from the field. The normal banter was playing back and forth amongst the team members. They traded jokes and barbs and good natured put downs as they passed the time. The comm chattered to life, stopping Storm right in the middle of a well place jab at Logan's stature, or lack thereof. Her smile died as received the message in her headset. In a smooth motion, she banked the jet sharply, putting it on a return path.

"Is the meeting over all ready?" Kurt joked, his tail wrapping around the arm rest as he felt the plane turn suddenly.

Storm's voice was terse. "We're being called back." She turned her full attention to the controls, trying to coax a little extra speed out of the engines.

Logan's eyes narrowed. "What's happened? Something at the school?" He cared a lot more about those kids than he'd ever let on as he gripped the arm of his chair.

Shaking her head, Storm's heart was beating fast in her ears as relayed all she knew.

"There's been an explosion."

At first, Kurt was confused as he was ushered directly from the Blackbird to Xavier's office. If there had been an accident, or an attack, shouldn't he be helping the others? About half way there, the realization dawned on him in the back of his head and made him queasy as it crawled to the front. He was almost running on all fours by the time he reached the professor's door.

Where was his family?? He looked around at the room in a panic as he burst in, but the elegant, well furnished office was completely empty of individuals except for himself and the headmaster. "What has happened??" His accent was thick with panic.

Xavier's expression was one of deep, troubled sorrow as he explained what little they knew to the German. Kurt had brought his family to this school so they would be safe. Xavier had promised them a place where they could live without fear. To have this happen was almost beyond comprehension.

Joe Donivan, Rachel's uncle, the man who had unbiasedly accepted Kurt into his family was dead. As was Lumi. She had been a second mother to Kurt. Made him that atrocious licorice tea when he was sick. Had counseled him many times and had held their family together in its darkest hour. In the blink of an eye, they were gone. Winked out of existence by one inconceivable act.

Xavier cleared his throat and came to the most difficult part. A complete search of the school had not turned up Kurt's child, and Rachel was in no condition to confirm his suspicions. "Kurt....do you know where your daughter is?"

His golden eyes wide with horror, Kurt felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "Please, dear God...please no...." he choked, his head starting to spin. "She...she..." He felt numb, like he was suspended in ice water. "I asked Lumi to watch..." He couldn't get any other words out. He stumbled backwards, his head in his hands as he crouched completely to the ground.

_Gracie...no, please, no._..

For a few seconds, the two men let silence speak the horrible truth. Eventually, the professor spoke again. "Kurt, Rachel has suffered a concussion." Xavier mentally supported the distraught young man as the truth took full effect. "It might be helpful if you could go to her."

Nodding his head woodenly, Kurt stood up. "Of-of course..." His voice was small and far away. He saw himself from a distance. In a dream like state, the German mutant moved slowly down the hall.

_Please, no..._

He didn't remember the walk to the infirmary when he found himself face to face with a shell shocked Rachel who stared up at him with a blank expression. The side of her head sporting a clean white dressing that stood in stark contrast to her dirty face. Sitting up in the bed, she clutched Gracie's nap time blanket in her soot blackened hands, smudging the soft pink fleece with traces of ash and dirt. Hank and the professor stepped out, giving them a moment.

Kurt wanted to break down. But, he couldn't - not yet. He sat down and pulled Rachel close. His heart was pounding out of his chest as reality was still dawning on him.

"Rachel," he managed, trying to hold himself together. "Where is Gracie??" He chocked. "Was she in the SUV?"

Turning her head as if trying to hear the question clearer, she shook her head. "No, Blue." She answered in a serene voice.

For a split second, Kurt gave himself hope that all was not lost.

"You were keeping her while I had my tests run." Rachel answered as innocently, pushing his hair away from his forehead. "We should get back to her, I know she's going to be hungry soon."

* * *

_present day..._

The foursome sat around the coffee table, sipping fragrant coffee and making small talk. Daniel and Rory took the love seat, leaving Rachel and Kurt on the sofa trying to determine how close to sit to each other. What was too close? What was too far away? The couple across from them seemed perfectly at ease. Daniel leaned over to Rory and whispered something in his ear. Rory shrugged as if to say whatever Daniel had requested was fine. It was relaxed kind of closeness. Rachel ached with envy. Ached with memory.

"So, how do you and Rachel know each other?" Rory asked in conversation to the disguised mutant.

There was an uncomfortably long silence, as Kurt searched for an answer. Rachel cut in for him.

"Our families." She answered, twisting her golden bracelet on her wrist. "I've known Kurt since...." She reached back into her memory for the image of a little boy blue sporting an adorable gap-toothed grin. "I was four and he was five ."

Kurt gave a start as he saw the golden trinket fall out from the cover of her cuff. It had been a wedding gift from her aunt on the night they married. It surprised him to see her wearing it. It held a lot of memories. Some good, some bad.

Daniel looked at Kurt with interest. "I sorry, I can't help but notice your accent. German?" He ventured.

Kurt sat his mug down politely on the coaster provided. "Ja." He smiled, slipping into the comfort of this place. "I was born there. I moved to this country about a year ago." He came here a wanted fugitive, with this beautiful, dark haired, dark eyed gypsy as his wife, carrying their daughter in her womb. That seemed like a memory of somebody else's life now.

Of their own will, his eyes drifted to Rachel, whose face was a marble template, impossible to decipher, even for him. But, for a split second, he thought he'd seen a glimpse of his Liebe in her stony countenance. A brief softness, perhaps?

Rory laid a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "You know, maybe he could help us with the hot water heater!" His face was excited with a kind of a serendipity.

Kurt furrowed his brow trying to figure out how being German qualified him to work on water heaters. "I'm not sure-"

Rory laughed at his guest's bemusement. "Oh, I'm sorry." He took another gulp of coffee and sat it down. "We had one of those tankless hot water heaters installed and the instructions are in German." He explained. "We can't get the thermostat timer set."

Daniel stood up, "I really hate to impose on you, but it would really help us out..." The way he stated his need for help, there was no way to decline without looking like a bad guest.

Kurt joined Daniel in standing. "Of course, I'd be glad to help." He gave Rachel a questioning look. "That is, if you don't mind..."

Rachel waved him away. "Knock yourself out." She gave him a quick smile, then studied her red ceramic mug intently as it trembled slightly in her hands, the nerve endings firing wildly.

Daniel led Kurt away from the group, down into the basement. Which, stereotypically, was just as neat and tidy as the upstairs. It reminded him of Rachel. Neat and organized. The way she kept her lab in Germany. The way she'd kept the baby's nursery. He forced his wandering thoughts back to the task at hand.

Kurt took up the manual, pristinely kept in a clear plastic bag, taped to the small, box-like, heater. After nearly a year in America, the Germanic words felt rusty to him. Then, he turned the manual to the back...

"Uhm...Daniel." He ventured holding manual out to him. "The English translation is in the back." He felt confused and a little uncomfortable.

Daniel was sitting on bottom basement step. "Yes, I know." He admitted to his lie, glibly. "That's not why Rory and I conspired to get you down here."

Kurt felt himself about to climb the wall...literally. "I do not understand...." He said slowly. It wasn't that he was homophobic. He would have felt almost as disturbed if Daniel had been Danielle...

"You're a good friend of Rachel's?" The question bore a weight that dictated he was not asking out of casual conversation.

Kurt shrugged, unsure what to say. She was still his wife and the mother of his child. But, he was not sure where _he_ stood with _her. _"Ja. I suppose."

Daniel stood up, his arms folded. "You came all the way from Westchester County, in the middle of the night, with a snow storm blowing in, all on the spur of a moment because of one phone call." He let out in one long sentence, paused a moment, then repeated. "You and Rachel are close?"

_Obviously, Daniel was not an idiot,_ Kurt thought ruefully. He sighed and nodded. "We have been very close in the past." He eluded. "I love her, dearly." It hurt to say, but it was true.

Daniel sat back down and stared up at the ceiling, trying to phrase his words correctly. "I've known Ray...Rachel a long time, since college." He started. It was then that Kurt picked up on the same slight drawl that had always amused him. It was Rachel's drawl, just not nearly as pronounced. Daniel retained enough of his accent to be 'charming', but not as much as Rachel who had store clerks begging her to 'talk' for them.

"Kurt, she's my boss...she's also my friend." He was trying to say something difficult, Kurt could tell it by the way he shifted his feet and would only meet the mutant's image induced eyes briefly.

"She doesn't eat. She doesn't sleep. She's constantly locked up in her apartment." He rubbed his eyes at the sheer number of times he'd felt obliged to go check on her after not hearing from her for days on end. It was as if she existed for a single purpose. And, that purpose was to find....something. Asking him to find information for her on the most bizarre topics. It was the job she'd hired him for. He was one part private investigator, one part computer whiz, one part blood hound. If there was reliable information on a matter, he'd find it no matter how well hidden it was.

Kurt remained silent, although his expression bore a deep frown. Maybe she wasn't getting along as well as he'd let himself believe.

"She's becoming her own worst enemy." Daniel rubbed his eyes. "You want to know why she'd got no hair? The real reason?" He offered, suddenly irritated.

Kurt simply nodded. He wanted, very much, to know why his Schatz had butchered her hair.

"She intended on dragging her city dwelling butt all the way out to this abandoned dam in Canada-"

"Lake Alkali?!" The words came out of Kurt in a vile purge.

Daniel look shocked that he'd know the place. "Yeah, that's the one! Anyway, her personal assistant calls me,_ frantic_ because Ray missed her flight time. No phone call, no nothin'!" Daniel was obviously upset. "So I think she's dead in a ditch somewhere. I mean, my God, she was the freakin' pilot! You don't miss your flight time when you're the _pilot_!!" His rebel accent became more pronounced as he got upset. "So we go over to her house. Thank God, her PA had a key. And what do we find?" It was hard for Kurt to tell if he was more angry or mortified.

"Rachel?" He offered, somewhat hesitantly.

Daniel snorted, his voice rising. "Ray! Passed out, _dead drunk,_ on the kitchen floor...with a pair of _scissors_ in her hand!!" He ran his hands through his own hair in frustration. "She had damn near scalped herself."

He clenched his fist. "We never did find her damn hair!! Looked all over the house for it." He took a deep breath and had to chuckle just a little. "Ray suggested we look in the bathroom, maybe she'd flushed it down the toilet with the rest of her life."

Kurt stood in stunned silence.

"And, the worst part?" Daniel finished. "She doesn't even remember doing it! She has absolutely no memory of cutting all her hair off." His voice trailed off for a moment.

"I..." Kurt faltered for a reply. "I had no idea..."

He stood and made a pleading gesture. "Kurt, there's something consuming her. It's eating her alive. She won't confide in me, but if there is anything you can do.." He stopped for a moment, then dropped his hands helplessly to his sides. "If she keeps going..."

He stopped. Ray was his friend. Had been since freshman orientation. And, when he came out of the closet, Ray had never wavered in her support. Maybe a little disappointed. _All the cute ones are gay or married_, but always his friend.

Since she'd shown back up the US, after hopping around Europe for the past 18 months, if that's_ really_ what she'd been doing...he didn't delve too deeply into her personal life out of respect and professionalism. But, something terrible had happened to her. Not just her uncle's murder. Something deep inside her was twisting her up; killing her from the inside out.

"Ja?" Kurt nudged after Daniel fell silent in his musings.

"If she keeps going like she is...the next time we chat is probably going to be at her funeral."

* * *

Please review and let me know what your thinking. :-)


	6. Childless

_Hope everybody had a great Thanksgiving! Thanks to everyone who's reading and especially those who are reviewing. Y'all are the best! :-)_

* * *

_Six months ago_

The X-teams worked together and with law officials round the clock to track down those responsible for the murders of Joe, Lumi, and Gracie. However, every lead they turned up ran into a dead end. Every enemy Joe Donivan had came with an airtight alibi, which even stood up to Xavier's telepathy. The case was rapidly running out of suspects and growing cold.

In the days and weeks following the explosion, Rachel fell further and further away. At first, she seemed to be handling the blow well, all things considered. At Joe's memorial service, she had fallen to her knees, sobbing in outside in the hallway, unable to say goodbye. Kurt held her and cried with her till she was able to face the fact that her uncle Joe, her childhood hero, her mentor, was really dead. Lumi's service saw much the same events. Rachel hung onto her Blue for support, accepting the bitter truth that she'd never be able to ask her wise aunt for advise ever again.

But, when it came time to lay Gracie's memory to rest, her mother was stony and blank. No tears, no outbursts. She just sat stoically, her hands in her lap, her eyes blank, her heart barely beating. Hank tried a combination of psychotherapeutic medication to help ease her suffering. But nothing seemed to help her overcome the consuming numbness of losing her only child. He finally referred her to a doctor who specialized in Acute Stress Disorder.

Rachel sat in Hank's office, watching his lips move as he read over the doctor's report, but heard very little of what he had to say.

"I wonder..." She mused, stopping the large blue furred mutant in mid-sentence.

"Wonder what?"

Her mouth twitched with thought as her hands trembled unnoticed in her lap. "If someone loses their spouse, they are _widowed_." She tilted her head. "If someone loses their parents, they are _orphaned_." Her eyes locked with Hank's.

"So what are you when you lose your child?"

Hank let his shoulders slump. There was no word in the English language for a parent who lost a child. It was a loss so terrible, there was no word that could even explain it.

He watched her stand up and walk out of his office without another word.

* * *

_Present..._

The brownstone was decked out in all its holiday glory. Evergreen garland hung tastefully up the banister rail. Two stockings hung over the crackling fireplace. An enormous Christmas tree stood tall in the front of the living room window, white lights twinkling merrily, reflecting off the glass ornaments. A few presents were already gathering underneath the tree's sturdy branches in anticipation of Christmas morning, just a few days away.

Rachel helped Rory carry the coffee cups to the kitchen. It felt like she was walking on knives with each step as she did her part to be a good guest. Just another hour...another hour and she'd be home, in her nice warm, empty bed. In another two hours, she be entering that beautiful haze of inebriation that made your problems fade just a little. Your failures not quite so glaring. In another three hours, she be asleep and holding Gracie in her arms again.

While she was certain no one would approve of her self medicating ways, it was the only way she could sleep. And dream. Her dreams were her escape from reality. And, they were always about Gracie...but, lately, Kurt had found his way into them as well. The past couple of weeks, her dreams turned to her Blue. Always holding her, comforting her, loving her.

Her psychotherapist, Dr. Bomenmang had suggested maybe that was a sign that she was ready to reconcile with her husband. She abruptly told him where he could stick that piece of psycho-babble. She couldn't bear feeling that much while she was awake. She'd rather stick with her self induced numbness while conscious. She could reconcile with Kurt in her dreams.

"You know, he's cute..." Rory prodded Rachel as he loaded the cups in the dish washer.

Rachel was shaken out of her stupor. "Kurt?" She chuckled. If he only knew..."You don't know the half of it." She replied cryptically.

"So...is he a _friend_?" Rory pried, turning the washer on, the sound of quiet swishing water filled the warm, comfortable kitchen.

"I love what you've done with this place, Rory." Rachel looked around changing the subject. She knew he meant well, but she just couldn't go there with him. Not even teasingly. She started to compliment his choice of tile when a sharp throbbing pain in her temple caught her off guard. Instinctively, she raised her fingertip to her temple, rubbing over a faint scar.

"Still having those migraines?" Rory asked with conversational concern.

Rachel merely nodded. Dr. Bomenmang felt certain her incapacitating headaches were stress related. And, she couldn't deny, the medication he had prescribed seemed to keep those terrific headaches at bay. She opened her purse and pulled the orange prescription bottle out. Shaking one of the white, foul smelling pills into her hand, she popped it to the back of her throat and swallowed it. She'd taken them so much the smell didn't even register anymore. Almost immediately, she began to feel the pain start to subside.

"So, how is the adoption search coming?" She ventured. The crestfallen look in Rory's eyes told the tale. It left Rachel with a sick feeling of emptiness. "What happened?"

Rory sat down at the table across from her and shrugged. "Same as always. Things were going great till the find out we have an 'alternative lifestyle.'" He sighed. They had been so close this time, at least until the birth mother had found out the baby she didn't want was going to be placed with a couple of '_fags_.' That was how she put it. Not to their faces, of course, but through her hand written letter that was so full of misspellings and grammatical errors, it was almost impossible to understand.

"Have you thought about, maybe, widening your scope a little?" She asked. "Maybe an older child, or one with special needs?" There were only so many healthy, white newborns to go around.

Nodding his head, Rory answered. "We've thought about it, but Dan has his mind set on a healthy newborn. He doesn't think we could properly care for a child with special needs...." The way he left off the sentence led Rachel to believe that they had not ended that talk on agreeing terms.

"What about a mutant?"

"A mutant?" Rory was taken back, then shook his head. "Dan wouldn't have it." He laughed at the irony, drumming his thumbs on the on the table top. "You know, it's kind of funny. He's pretty prejudice for a gay guy."

_No one's perfect. _"Well, it's just a thought." She finished, a small chuckle escaping her as well.

Just then they heard Kurt and Daniel coming back up the stairs. The medication might cure her headaches, but they didn't do a damn thing for her feet, she thought, grimacing as she stood. They hurt so badly she could barely stand.

As the two got ready to leave, Rory appeared from the kitchen carrying to large totes of food. "Here, I packed up a dogie bag." Rory handed Rachel two tote bags of left overs from their Christmas party. When she started to protest, he held up his hand, stopping her. "We both know you don't have any food in your house. And, besides, news report says this storm might actually shut us down for a day or so. At least, that is what the news said."

"Dank." Kurt accepted for her, taking the bags. "We need to go now, if I'm going to have any chance at all of getting home." Of course, after hearing Daniel's revelations, the last thing he wanted to do was leave Rachel by herself...

"Are you sure you don't just want to stay here till this thing blows over?" Daniel asked, sincerely concerned for his friend.

Rachel stubbornly shook her head. "No. Icy roads are no problem for Kurt." She spared a smile for him. "Germany, remember?"

Hugging her blood hound and his partner good night, she stepped back and slid back into the coat Kurt was holding for her. She felt an old, powerful sensation as the back of his fingers brushed against her neck. She actually had to close her eyes for a split second to refocus.

Kurt shook hands with his hosts. He and Daniel exchanged a serious expression as Rachel was distracted by Rory inviting her to the New Year's Eve party.

Taking the two bags of food in one hand, Kurt proceeded ahead of her down the stairs. She followed, openly jealous of his graceful surefooted steps. She heard the door shut behind her and instantaneously felt her legs go out from under her as her foot hit a patch of ice. Shrieking and flailing her arms, Rachel hurled towards the pavement.

Her fall was cut short as Kurt instinctively grabbed her. She felt flushed as a strong, sinewy arm held her and her eyes were drawn to his image induced face. His image might be disguised, but not his feel, his scent. A slightly pungent, smoky smell that clung to him, just as she did. A flood of memories raced over her with that embrace. She closed her eyes and, acting on their own, her hands slid up to rest on Kurt's shoulders and she felt his embrace tighten, slightly. She was sure they were going to kiss right there on the street in front of Rory, who she was sure was watching them. Their heads actually tilted towards each other. But, the closeness was fleeting. As soon as she was swimming in a warm tide of such wonderful memories, the bad memories followed up cold and violent, threatening to drown her. And, that was more than she could take. Opening her eyes, she reluctantly pushed him away. Again.

* * *

"They were _this_ close." Rory sighed as he spied on the two through a slit in the curtains. He held his thumb and forefinger a hair width's apart from each other, for emphasis.

Daniel shook his head and embraced his love. "You are a hopeless romantic."

"No, I am a _hopeful_ romantic." He countered with a line from his favorite movie. "I'm telling you, there is something there. A spark between those two." He insisted, stepping away from the window. "Just needs a little kindling to get it going." He smirked, wondering what Rachel would think of the goodies he'd packed in their dogie bag.

* * *

Another pair of eyes, dark and sinister, filled with malice, watched the couple as well. Smirking as they broke apart and Kurt held the door open for Rachel.

Via the NYCDOT traffic video system the intrusive voyeur smiled coldly.

_That's right Nightcrawler. Take her home. Take care of her. Play your cards right and you'll be back in her bed by morning. We both know it's what you want. So take her. Enjoy her. I'm letting you have her back for a little while...before I take her away again._


	7. Beginning of the End

_Special thanks to NachtcGleiskette who has been kind enough to help me with my writer's block!! Thanks much 'ums!!!_

_

* * *

__Four months ago..._

Rachel had finally consented to counseling after it was clear there was nothing Hank could do to for her. Sometimes Kurt went with her, depending on the session. But, more and more she went alone. Dr. Bomenmang felt he was able to make more progress when she was by herself and less uninhibited...

_Do you ever blame you husband for your daughter's death?_

_No, of course not._

_Last week you said he had promised to watch her for you, but then left on a business trip instead....how did that make you feel?_

_....._

_Do you think Gracie would still be alive if he'd kept his word?_

_....._

_Rachel...you can' t help how you feel. No one is here to judge you. I just need to know...Is there some part of you that blames your husband for your daughter's death?_

_....._

_....._

_yes..._

* * *

"Rachel?" Kurt knocked on the bathroom door of their room. They had vacated their old apartment shortly after the explosion. Being there was just too hard right now. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of what used to be...and what could have been. He and Rachel didn't talk about it. In fact they didn't talk much about anything, anymore. They lived together, alone...more like room mates than husband and wife. Neither of them had truly grieved for their daughter. And, it was a raw pain that was slowly tearing them apart.

The first few nights, Kurt tried to hold Rachel but she rebuffed him, staying rigid in his arms. After a week, he gave up. It was obvious she didn't want to be touched. So, he clung to his edge of the bed and she clung to hers.

After two weeks, Kurt returned to his duties. He needed the distraction. There was the inevitable awkwardness of getting back to business, but Logan had broken the ice in a sparring session that almost broke Kurt's jaw.

_Bad guys ain't gonna go easy on ya....neither am I..._ Kurt supposed that was what they called 'tough love.' If so, Wolverine was loaded with it.

Several of the school's students had kindly offered to pack up Gracie's belongings for them and put them in storage till they were ready to go through them. It was a touching gesture. Kitty had led the effort and organized the endeavor. She had warmed up to Rachel quickly and went bananas over Gracie. After a couple of months, she struggled with and finally overcame her fear of Kurt. Enough so that he'd even given her a pet name, Katzchen. She had cried for days after Gracie died.

"Are you ready, Schatz?"

Mass was in thirty minutes. If they left right now, they'd just make it. Rachel was standing, arms crossed, in front of a large vanity mirror staring blankly at her reflection. Kurt put a hand on her unresponsive shoulder.

"Rachel, we are going to be late." Kurt gently urged her, picking up her purse and trying to hand it to her.

Dr. Bomenmang had said some of the best medicine for Rachel would be to get her back in a routine as quickly as possible. Her personality lent itself to organization and schedules. That her mind would become more rational if she had a routine to depend on. So, Kurt made sure everything in their lives stayed at a constant. Not an easy task, given his line of work, and the fact that she stonewalled him at every turn. But, she was his first priority. She had been a mental wreck when she'd been rescued from Alkali Base. It had been a hard road back for her, and now to have this happen...

"I'm not going to mass." She stated flatly, refusing her bag. Her eyes never left the mirror.

Kurt clenched his jaw and sat her purse down. He'd been preparing for this. He knew eventually her anger would turn towards God. Sighing and knitting his eyebrows, he stood beside her, staring at his reflection next to hers. It struck him how different and how similar they were.

"Leibe, I know you're angry." He started out. "But, please don't blame God. He mourns with us-"

"I don't blame God." She cut him off tersely. Her eyes burned bright with anger, still staring ahead.

"I blame _you_."

The accusation hit him hard. Even he blamed himself. If he had stayed home and taken care of his daughter as he'd promised, he knew she'd still be alive. But to hear Rachel openly accuse him was like being shot in the chest. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. When he looked back up, Rachel was half way to the door.

"Where are you going?" His voice was quiet and strained.

"Anywhere." And, she left him in their room, shutting the door behind her.

Kurt walked back into the bedroom and sat down heavily on the side of their bed, head in his hands. This was the first time he truly worried that this might be the storm they couldn't weather. That this was the beginning of the end.

* * *

_Present...._

The drive to Rachel's apartment was quiet. It started to snow almost as soon as they pulled away from Daniel's townhouse. The radio played cheerful Christmas tunes and was the only sound in the car. Kurt kept finding his eyes drawn to his wife's lack of the long flowing locks that had defined her for so many years. Could she have _really_ gotten so deep in her cup that she took a pair of scissors and cut it all off??

Rachel, for her part stared, mostly at her hands resting in her lap. She'd look out the window every now and again with a wistful expression. It had not escaped the former circus performer's memory that exactly one year ago today, he and Rachel were crossing the Atlantic to get here. He wondered if she was remembering the two of them being tangled up in the sheets on the private jet's bed. Of coming to terms with being fugitives when just a few days prior, they'd been decorating a Christmas tree, feeling Gracie kick for the first time, and being a happy, newly wedded couple. It felt so long ago, but those were the memories that had been playing in his head all day long.

During an intermission between 'I'll be Home for Christmas' and 'Let is Snow' - ironically enough, an overly jovial weatherman come over the airwaves to seal their fates.

"We just received word that the interstate has been shut down." Rachel spared a look at Kurt whose mouth curled downward. "State patrol and local law enforcement are encouraging everyone to stay in their homes. This is going to be a nasty storm, everyone. If you don't have to get out in this, then please don't!"

As if to prove his point, the Audi suddenly lost traction, sending it sliding across the icy road. With calm skill, Kurt brought the car back under control with minimum effort. He glanced over at Rachel to see her gripping the console, her eyes open wide in alarm.

"It's all right." He assured her, laying his hand over hers and giving it a little squeeze without thinking. Silently, Rachel wrapped her fingers around his and held his hand, her eyes still staring straight ahead. Kurt said nothing, but his heart did skip a beat. They drove on like that till they reached her building.

By the time they reached her block, the snow was coming down so hard, visibility was down to just a few feet. It was obvious to both of them that Kurt would be staying over. It was suicide to be on the road on a night like this.

"That's my building up there on the right." She finally released his hand, dug in her purse and pulled out the remote to open the gate to the garage. The Audi made a smooth turn as the gate retracted for it to enter and closed up behind it. Parked in a empty lot, Kurt looked around with frown.

"Why are there no other cars?" He couldn't help but find it odd that they seemed to be the only ones here.

Rachel put her remote away and shrugged. "The building is still under renovation. My apartment is the only one finished so far. I'm not sure when the other apartments will be ready."

Kurt shook his head. "So, you live here...all alone?" It made him sad, somehow, to think of her living in this huge building all by herself. Rachel had always liked being around people. It was one of the things she'd loved about the circus. There were people everywhere, all the time. He knew she had moved into a trendy area of Brooklyn and had convinced himself that she was in a building filled with eclectic folks, maybe making a few new friends and starting to get her life back together. Daniel had dashed that day dream for him. The emptiness of this basement garage drove home how much his gypsy had changed. How losing her family had made her afraid to be close to anyone...

"Just me and the belfry bats." She answered, starting to open the door. With a flash, Kurt was outside, opening her door for her and turning off his inducer. No sense in using it if no one else was here. She gave him a little smile as she climbed out, obviously pleased he looked like himself again. She tried not to hobble on her painful feet. Just then, the lights overhead flickered and went dead, darkness swallowing them.

"Shit!" She hissed, suddenly in the black.

"I can still see." Kurt offered, reaching an arm around her. His luminescent eyes easily piercing the darkness that surrounded them. He almost expected her to pull away, but she didn't. He took that as, maybe, another encouraging sign...

Rachel sighed, explaining, "Well, that's good and all, but if the power's out, it means the elevator is out too..."

"What floor are you on?" He asked, warily.

"The top, of course." She spat, ironically. "Thirty stories up." She really didn't know if she was going to make it. She wasn't even sure if she was going to be able to walk across the parking lot, let alone climb up thirty floors. Just then, the back up lights glowed into a dim existence.

Before Kurt could ask, she cut him off. "Lights, yes. Elevators, no." The backup generators powered a few lights, but that was it.

"Do you keep you curtains open?" Kurt asked, turning to face her.

Rachel shrugged, "Yes...." Then her face turned to panic. "No, Kurt." She shook her head adamantly, stepping away from him as if he'd grown horns to match his tail. "Absolutely not!"

Kurt shifted to look down at her with a patronizing stare. "Rachel, you can't climb up thirty stories. You can barely walk." He motioned to her aching feet. Before she could protest again, he held his arms out. "Just put your arms around me and close your eyes. I promise, I won't bite" He finished with a small grin.

Images of being teleported and then momentarily suspended thirty stories in the air, swam in front of Rachel, making her almost hyperventilate. "Kurt, I...I-I can't." She drew even further away, her arms gathered around herself defensively. "You know how I feel about heights."

It was true. Kurt had never met anyone more phobic of heights than her. It made the fact that she live on the thirtieth floor all the more hysterical, in a macabre sort of way. But, he didn't dare laugh. "Just keep your eyes closed." He repeated, putting his arms around her. "I'll let you know when to open them." His voice was kind, his face patient.

That kind, patient face had bent her to his will countless times. That and knowing there was no other option _and_ that she should be grateful he was willing to do this for her, at all...Rachel, hesitantly, slid her hands under his warm coat and clasped her arms tightly around the slender mutant. She shut her eyes tight and waited for inevitable feeling of dizziness. Trying not to throw up at the very idea of dangling - even for a second - three hundred feet up in the air.

Giving her a quick hug to reassure her, Kurt focused and the two disappeared and reappeared outside the garage gate. He was sure he heard her whimper in fearful anticipation. The snow was coming down so heavy, It was hard to see up more than fifty feet or so.

****bamf****

_...about midway_

_****bamf***__*_

_getting closer..._

_****bamf***__*_

_ahhh!....nearly there_

_****bamf***__*_

_Oops! Too far!_

_****bamf***__*_

"Ok, you can let go." Kurt offered, kindly, as they finally stood in her dark living room, surrounded by a dissipating cloud of smoke.

For a few moments he thought maybe Rachel hadn't heard him. Then as he looked closer, he saw a look of sheer terror in her scrunched up face, her eyes shut tight. She was trembling.

"Shh...Leibe..."his voice was quiet and comforting as he rubbed her back soothingly. "It's all right. We're here. You can let go now..." For another few moments, he stood there awkwardly, Rachel clinging to him. He wondered what all the board members of Donivan Enterprises would say if they could see their strong willed boss, clinging to him like a frightened child. Well, they wouldn't hear it from him.

After another few seconds, Rachel dared to open her eyes. Then she loosened her death grip Kurt, trying to draw in a cleansing breath. She closed her eyes again as the room spun round. Most people who teleported with Kurt complained of being nauseous. It only made her extremely dizzy. This was no exception. She felt him steady her for a moment, before letting go.

"Thank you." She spoke barely above a whisper. Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she cleared her throat. "If you'd be kind enough to go get the food, I'll see if I can get the fireplace going."

Stepping away from her, Kurt nodded and vanished in another cloud of smoke. Rachel sighed as she stepped out of her agony inducing shoes and left them were they were. Feeling her way through the darkened room, she reached on the mantle for the fireplace remote. When Kurt reappeared, she was cursing the dark, cold hearth.

"It's not working!" She gave a frustrated cry and slammed the remote back down on the mantle. She turned her eyes towards another room and slumped her shoulders in defeat. Wordlessly, she stepped into another room and within seconds, Kurt could see the glow of a cheerful fire flickering into the hallway. He made his way that direction and soon found himself in the master bedroom.

"I'm afraid this is going to be the only heat till the power comes back on." Rachel said by way of apology, tossing the remote down on on her bed as she shrugged out of her coat and tossed it over a chair. "We'll just have to stay in here."

Kurt smiled and sat down the bags in front of them. "I'm sure we'll manage." he joked encouragingly. He took a look around the room. It was very well decorated, but something was missing. As he took the room in, he realized there was nothing of Rachel here. No photos, no personal nick knacks. The place looked as luxuriously generic as a five star hotel. "Nice place." he managed.

Rachel looked around, appraising the place as if she'd never seen it before. She shrugged. "I guess." She limped towards the kitchen. "I'll see if I have any candles."

"Rory beat you to it." Kurt replied, holding up a pack of candles with holders, and a lighter he pulled out of the first bag, along with a bottle of wine and several disposable containers of food. He quickly lit a few candles for Rachel's benefit and continued to dig through the bags.

The second bag was far more _interesting._ At its bottom, it contained a CD of romantic music, more wine, a small, unopened bottle of 'personal lubricant', and an box of condoms.

Rachel stared at that items, wide eyed; then closed her eyes as she rubbed her temples and gave an irritated sigh. "That wasn't my idea..." she defended herself against some insane plot Rory had cooked up in his head. Had he been standing in front of her, she would have absolutely throttled him!. He was obsessed with seeing all his friends in relationships. It was like his hobby. The matchmaker. Could he have possibly made this any more awkward??

Grateful for his fur to hide his blush, Kurt played along, gamely. "Well, I think the Pope frowns on the condoms, but the lubricant could be fun..." He chuckled, trying to take the edge off a very uncomfortable situation.

Instead of laughing with him, Rachel turned scarlet with embarrassment. Avoiding his gaze at all costs, she grabbed a candle and rushed to the walk-in closet, mumbling that she was going to change. Standing alone, Kurt stepped over to the tall foot post of her four poster bed and methodically beat his head against it with just one thought in his head.

_Stupid....stupid....stupid....._

* * *

Okey dokey - please R & R! - thanks!


	8. I Can't Do This Anymore

_Special thanks again to NachtcGleiskette - without whom, I'd probably still be spinning my wheels on this chapter! Thanks!!_

Also, thanks for all the reviews guys! They make my day!!

* * *

_Four months, two weeks ago..._

The next week saw their marriage free fall into disaster. Her coldness turned rapidly into white hot anger as Rachel attacked Kurt with increasing frequency.

"I have a the greatest husband on Earth, but every time I'm near him I find myself going off like Chernobyl." Rachel sat in Dr. Bomenmang's office. Her chair was soft and comfortable, the decor designed to put the patient at ease. But no amount of soothing blue-gray walls in the world could calm Rachel as she sat in tears.

Edward Bomenmang was a round, older man. If he grew his white beard out, Rachel would have been tempted to climb up in his lap and tell him she wanted a pony for Christmas. Sitting at his desk, he looked over the top of his spiral bound note pad at the distraught young woman. "You are _grieving_ Rachel. That process is ugly and messy. There's no way to make it neat and orderly. Anger is a natural stage of acceptance...we've discussed this before."

That did not satisfy her. "I can't keep doing this to him..." The desperate tone in her voice pleaded for help.

Dr. Bomenmang looked over his notes and made an intonation that announced he was about to bring up something unpleasant. "Rachel, sometimes grief like this forces us to look at our relationships with a critical eye." He flipped pages till he found the scribble he was looking for. "In our past visits you mentioned that you were pregnant when you and your husband married. Did he propose before or after he discovered this?"

Rachel swallowed a hard lump in her throat. "After..." she admitted even as her mind raged against the implication the good doctor was making.

"Do you think he'd have proposed if you had _not_ been pregnant?" His question was simple enough, but impossible for her to answer immediately. "Do you believe the two of you would've gotten married if Gracie had not been in the equation?"

Rachel clenched her shaking hands. Her mind drifted back in time. Suddenly, she found herself sitting on the side of her bed, a rejected Kurt on his knees in front of her, pleading with her to marry him.

_We're going to have a baby...that changes everything. _

A tear fell from her eye. "I...I" Another tear and another ran down her face as she finally shook her head. "I don't know..."

Standing up, Edward walked around his desk and offered her a tissue. She took it gratefully and wiped her eyes. His voice was gentle and fatherly as spoke comfortingly.

"Rachel, I'm not trying to make this any harder for you. But, it seems your marriage was born out of the responsibility of an unplanned pregnancy." He leaned back against his desk, putting his hands in his pockets with a thoughtful look. "This wouldn't be the first time I've counseled a couple who alkalied responsibility for love."

"Couple who _what_??" She couldn't have heard that right.

"I said, you wouldn't be the first couple who alibied getting married when they probably shouldn't have. It doesn't mean you didn't love each other-"

At that Rachel stood up, now on the defensive. "Dr. Bomenmang, I appreciate what you're trying to say. But, I love my husband _very_ much. And, I know he loves me. If you only knew, the things-" she stopped short. He knew her husband was a mutant. But he didn't know her husband was a mutant who had offered himself up to Stryker's sick, twisted agenda. Sacrificing himself in an effort to keep her safe.

She'd married an incredibly brave man who loved her and their daughter very much. Even now, she didn't know everything they'd done to him. But Kurt still had nightmares that caused him to moan and cry out, sometimes even scream in his sleep. She'd gleaned enough from what she heard to know he'd endured torture that would've broken a lesser man.

Backing off, figuratively and literally, Edward eased back behind his desk. He pulled out his prescription pad and scrawled a prescription for her. "Perhaps, we can discuss that eventually. I'd like to hear more about these things you keep eluding to..." He handed her the illegible note. "This should help with those headaches you've been experiencing."

At first she refused. "They're not that bad." After being at the mercy of the mad scientists who'd pumped her full of every drug imaginable, she didn't even like taking aspirin.

Dr. Bomenmang smiled, knowingly. "I have a feeling they are going to get worse."

* * *

Despite everything she tried, Rachel was trapped in a vicious cycle. She hurt so badly, she would strike out against her Blue, at the only person who dared to be close to her. Then, she felt self loathing at the hurt in his eyes as she called him everything she could think of. Then, when he wouldn't fight back, that loathing turned inward and back into anger, which hurt so badly she had to expel it...and the cycle started all over again.

Marriages fall apart for any variety of reasons. Some are warranted, most are not. Kurt and Rachel's marriage imploded over a laundry basket. For months afterwards, Kurt still couldn't remember exactly how a tiff over laundry duties escalated into the screaming match that ended them.

That final battle came on the heels of yet another sleepless night. The two had laid awake all night; Rachel facing the wall, Kurt facing the window. At day break, they finally had an excuse to get out of bed. A basket of clean laundry sat placidly in the corner from the night before. Turning on the light, Kurt grabbed the basket and sat it on the bed, digging through it for a clean t-shirt.

"Kurt, everything in there is folded!" Rachel cried, yanking the utilitarian white plastic carrier out of his hands back across to her side of the bed. "Damn it!" she muttered under her breath at the disarrayed shirts and towels, trying to salvage what she could. "If you needed a shirt, why didn't you just ask for one?" the irritation in her voice was impossible to miss as she yanked out a white t-shirt and threw it at him.

Kurt tried to bite his tongue, but he was too tired. Tired of sleepless nights, tired of living with someone who constantly tried to nettle him into a fight, tired of having to cope with his daughter's death alone. Rachel should have been the one person with whom he could let down his guard and share his grief. Instead, she treated him like the enemy...and he was just tired of it.

"I didn't know I needed ask permission first!" He threw the shirt back at her, letting it land on the bed in front of her. "If everything was already folded, why didn't you just put it away last night?!"

Wadding up the shirt, she hurled it into the floor, and for a second, he swore she was going to stomp on it. "Why didn't _I _put all this away? Why didn't _you_!?"

"You didn't ask me to!" He jumped on the defensive. Even at this point, his mind was pondering the idea that this might actually be the _stupidest_ fight they'd ever had.

Rachel came around the bed, heading towards him, pointing at the basket, "Why should I have to _ask_ you??" Her voice rising, "Can't you just _see_ something needs to be done and DO IT!!"

"WHY??" He yelled back. "So you can come right behind me and point out everything I'm doing wrong!?" He had not been able to do anything right for weeks. She found fault with almost everything he touched.

"I don't have the time to point out everything you do wrong!!" She spat, crossing her arms tight across her chest, her face turning an angry color.

And, it was at that point that things got fuzzy in his memory. Kurt distinctly remembered his tail coiling up, the way it always did when he was _really_ angry. And, then he remembered more shouting and throwing blame. And, the next thing he remembered clearly was Rachel standing toe to toe with him, hissing "I think if you cared half as much about your family as you did being an X-Man, Gracie would still be alive." She had been staring at him with pure hate.

And, he remembered wanting to hit her. God help him, he had wanted to backhand her to the floor. It was an insane kind of daydream that he still found horrifying.

"You promised we'd be safe here!" She had lunged against his chest with the flats of her palms and shoved him backwards. "You were supposed to watch her!! She was supposed to be with you!! What the HELL was so important in Vancouver that it was worth Gracie's LIFE?!"

Something in him just snapped. When she lunged at him again, he side stepped her, grabbing up her hands by the wrists. "Our daughter died on YOUR watch!" He shook her violently as she raged against him. "_**I**_ was the one who had to come home to a DEAD CHILD!!!"

Then, she started to cry.

Kurt's anger died at the sound her quiet tears. He bowed his head and loosen his grip on her wrists, almost holding her hands.

"I'm sorry, Rachel." He whispered, letting her go all together. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned away. "I can't do this anymore."

Just then the phone rang urgently. Kurt crossed the room and answered it. A few moments later, he was hanging up. "I've got to go." His voice was quiet and subdued. He grabbed a second t-shirt and clean sweats out of the basket. "The team has to go-"

"Be careful." she answered torpidly, cutting him off. It didn't really matter where they were going. He belonged to a world beyond her. She didn't have the genetics for it.

Feeling a little surreal after this terrible fight that had ended so abruptly, Kurt was unsure how to act. Finally he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She neither encouraged nor tried to stop him. He paused for a moment longer, trying to think of some way to undo the damage done here. Maybe they just needed a chance to step back and take a deep breath. "I should be back tonight or tomorrow. And, we can...we can talk..." Try to figure out how to salvage their marriage before it was too late.

But it was already too late.

Rachel said nothing. She stood, rooted in the floor as he walked away from her. She watched him pulled on his clothes, then walk out their door. He shut it quietly behind him. He couldn't do this anymore. Neither could she. She wasn't tied to this place like him. She could make it easy for them. She'd leave.

She pulled her suitcase out of the closet and started packing.


	9. Heart to Heart

Kinda long and kinda creepy towards the end. Please R and R. Let me know what you think!

* * *

Rachel tore her closet apart. Where the Hell were her pajamas?? The big frumpy ones with the pink frogs on it. The ones that made it impossible to feel or look sexy. She was desperate to look as unappealing as possible. Finally she backed up against the door and slid down to the floor, clenching her fists. She didn't want him here. No, no...that wasn't true. She did want him here. She wanted...

Damn him! Damn this snow and the elevator and the lights!! Damn Rory and his candles and just......DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!!!!

Running her fingers through her short hair, she ordered herself to get it together. It was just one night....One night, locked together in a bedroom with a fire place, candle light, and wine. This was the perfect recipe for disaster and mind blowing sex.

Finally she started to change clothes. As she unbuttoned her blouse, she found herself tangled up as the clasp of her aunt's bracelet caught her necklace. While she tried to gently work the clasp free, a golden glimmer slid down the delicate chain to settle beside her busy fingertips. She stopped, staring at it. She'd taken her wedding ring off her finger, but couldn't quite bring herself to stop wearing it all together. In a coward's compromise, she kept it close but hidden on the end of a aureate chain.

_Very funny, Lumi_, she thought, going back to work freeing her wrist from her neck. She couldn't help but get the feeling she wasn't alone here sometimes. That someone was watching her. Maybe it was Lumi, trying to scold her from the grave for all the stupidity she'd indulged in since her death.

_Lumi, I wish you were here right now..._

* * *

Kurt took the opportunity to call home and let everyone know things were fine. Well, maybe not fine, but at least he wasn't stranded on the interstate somewhere. It was cold out there.

"Logan, I need you to do me a favor." He asked, perched on the back on a chair, communicator in hand. There was something that just bothered him about Rachel's Bentley. "As soon as the roads are cleared, would you please have Rachel's car towed to the mansion."

"Why?" The response was gruff. Why did Kurt want him to do it, or why did Kurt want it done at all? It wasn't like that woman had done anything to endear herself to any of them recently.

"I'd like for us to have a look at it." He answered, the wheels spinning in his head.

There was a brief silence. "You think someone tried to sabotage her car?"

"That's what I want to find out."

* * *

After she'd gotten the bracelet loose, she grabbed the only sleepwear in her closet. When she'd finally worked up the nerve, she reappeared wearing her old shapeless nightshirt. Everything else had disappeared. She guessed the cleaning lady hadn't brought her clothes back from the laundry yet. But, she did manage to find something for Kurt. "These are yours." She cleared her throat and handed him a pair of black knit pajamas. "They were mixed up in my things, and-and I just hadn't gotten the chance to, you know...to give them back." Her cheeks flushed and she cursed herself silently.

Kurt took them trying to act natural. "Danke, Rachel." Despite his lingering discomfort, he was grateful to be able to get into something more comfortable. He'd not exactly come dressed for an overnight stay. He excused himself into the closet and changed. He bit his lip, still slapping himself over his off color joke. What did he really think was going to happen here? That some magical fairy was going to descend and take away all their problems with a bottle of wine and a few candles?

He emerged from back into the firelight, determined to be a gentleman for the rest of the evening, even as he found himself staring at her long legs fluting out from the bottom of her shirt. Before long, the two were sitting in the floor, in front of the fire place, dining on entirely unhealthy party tidbits, propped up on pillows from the bed and trying to make small talk as best they could. But, blessedly, as the wine started doing its job, the two fell into a relaxed, comfortable state. The awkwardness from earlier forgotten.

He kept staring at her hair. He couldn't help it.

After a few minutes, Rachel felt his scrutiny. She pulled at the ends of her hair, as if trying to make it longer. "You don't like it, do you?" She asked, embarrassed.

At first he shrugged and tried to feign some kind of compliment. But, she could see right through him, always could. So, he didn't insult her with a lie. "No..." he answered as gently as he could. "But, then again it's your hair, not mine." He gave a smile. "I suppose you can do with it what you like."

She roughed it up with her hands, frustrated. 'I hate it!" she spat suddenly. "I don't know what I could have been thinking..." For some reason it hurt that her hair was all gone. She felt naked and vulnerable without it.

Kurt slid over next to her and urged her to lay her head on his shoulder. Maybe he was being forward, but she didn't retreat away. "Feeling a little like Sampson?" He joked as she willingly laid her head down.

She smiled a little. "I suppose so." she sighed. "At least it will grow back. It's already longer than it was." she tried to sound encouraged.

Kurt bit back his response that he'd have hated to see how short it was when she first cut it! Instead he slowly slid an arm around his wife, watching her watching the fireplace.

"Is this all right?" He remembered the first time he'd put his arm around her like this. It was around a campfire back in Germany, right after they'd started dating. She was eager to have his touch then. He wasn't so sure about now.

Rachel teetered between throwing herself in his lap and locking herself in her closet. Even as she fought herself, her arms encircled his waist and she nodded, still staring at the fire. She dared a glance up at him to see him studying her with a vague smile.

She looked back to the fireplace. "Kurt, can I ask you a question?" It had been burning up her brain for months.

Kurt shrugged, "Of course..." He went through a million questions she might ask, but was still surprised when she asked-

"Did we make a mistake, being together?"

Pulling away, the fuzzy elf looked conflicted. "Why do you ask?" He felt his pulsed pick up.

In reply, Rachel stared at her bare left ring finger. "If I hadn't shown up, you'd probably still be with the circus...Lumi would still be alive..." She curled her fingers into a fist of self blame.

"We don't know what would have happened." Kurt answered firmly. "There's a good chance Stryker's men would have found me, regardless." He made a sound that was almost a growl. "There were several of us 'trained' at that place. But, they were very _specific_ about what they wanted."

"You weren't the only one??" This was the first she'd heard that. She had never been able to bring herself to ask any specifics about his 'training' as he put it. His nightmares gave her nightmares as it was.

Kurt shook his head, his eyes hardening at the memories of seeing other mutants being brutalized, especially the female mutants. Raped, beaten, executed, some of them couldn't have been as old as Kitty. "No, I wasn't the only one."

They were quiet for a few moments before Rachel spoke again, changing the subject. "You deserve a good woman, Kurt." She concentrated on the floor, not daring to look up. She left the unspoken offer in the air. The offer to be rid of her and get on with his life.

"I have a good woman." He answered matter-of-factly, tightening his hold on her again. "And yes, I believe we did the right thing by being together and being married." he looked down at the top of head glued to his shoulder, again.

"Because I was pregnant?"

Did he hear a quiver in her voice? "Is that what this is about??" His voice was torn between disbelief and disapproval.

"Would we have gotten married if I _hadn't_ been pregnant?" It was the reason she'd left, the reason she'd ran away. "Be honest." She warned.

Kurt laughed, softly. "Can I tell you a secret, Schatz?" he studied his toes as he stretched his legs out.

Rachel nodded clasping the ring hidden under her nightshirt, hardly registering that she still needed to breath. Slowly, she pulled away to study him.

"I wanted to marry you the first night I walked you home." He smiled at the memory of the first time she kissed him. "I spent weeks working out the perfect way to ask you."

She stared at him with a speculative gaze. "Really?" She wanted to believe him. Dear God, she needed to believe him. If he was telling the truth, that changed everything.

Kurt nodded, grinning now. He went up on his knees in front of her, gaining momentum and excitement as he gestured wildly. "Oh, yes! I had everything planned out in my head. There was going to be roses and champagne and one of those planes that writes things in the air!"

She burst out laughing at his antics as he drew loopy letters with his finger. He was her clown, there were no depths or heights he wouldn't exploit to make her smile. He stopped for a moment, sinking back on his heels taking in the sight of her golden skin tinged with color, her eyes sparkling with mirth. It had been so long since he'd heard her laugh.

"It was going to be _very_ exciting!" he promised with his hands and tail working a magnificent flourish.

"I'll bet it was..." She managed through her laughter. It felt good to laugh again. How long had it been since she had been willing to put down her misery long enough to enjoy a moment like this?

After her laughter died down, she found him staring at her. She returned his stare, unable to look away.

He thought, earlier he had seen a pendent hanging from the necklace that discreetly peeked out from under the collar of her blouse. But, now from his vantage point, he could see the small circular outline laid out against her sternum. It was no mere bauble she wore. She froze as he took her necklace in his hand and pulled it towards him. A gold band peeked over the neck line of her shirt. For several moments, the two stared, alternately at the ring, then each other.

Finally, Kurt moved again, releasing her necklace and tracing the outline of her jaw. She did not pull away as he took his free hand in hers and brought her up to her knees. Nor did she resist when he slid an arm around her. And, when he brought his lips down to caress hers, she returned the kiss with an intensity that surprised both of them. Soon, she was in his lap as the two were wrapped around each other, touching and kissing any place they could in a urgent need to be closer.

"Oh, Rachel..." He breathed against her neck as he shifted his position, trying to alleviate the immense discomfort he was feeling in his pants.

In response, Rachel twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back. Holding him firmly between her hands, she kissed him deeply, soundly, desperately. All the while writhing against him. Right, wrong...all of it went out the window. And, she didn't care if her pride forced her to commit ritual suicide in the morning, she was going to have him in her bed tonight.

She moaned against him, "Blue, please...I need you." her words and warm breath against his ear was Kurt's undoing. With almost no effort, he stood up and grabbed her up in his arms. She had always been amazed at his strength. He's muscles were lithe and sinewy; it was easy to forget how strong he was. She gasped as she felt herself being hefted up off the floor.

Kurt laid her down on the bed and climbed up next to her. They didn't stop to consider the possible consequences of their actions here. If they slowed down, if they gave themselves a moment to think this through, they'd stop. And, neither wanted to stop.

Soon they were naked against each other, clothes discarded recklessly. Hands and mouths and even his tail teased and pleasured each other till they were both at their breaking point. But, when Kurt finally pulled her legs around his waist and started to press against her, something clicked in the back of Rachel's mind.

"Please, Blue..." she whimpered, edging away, shaking her head. "Please don't...."

Confused, Kurt froze. He could not have read her wrong. He knew her body better than she did. She wanted this, he knew she did. So why was she suddenly so frightened?

"Kurt, I want...but...I can't...I mean, I don't want..." Rachel couldn't even speak her fear as she started trembling. Instead, she depended on him to know. He always knew what she needed. No other man on Earth had ever known her so well. Please, let him understand the fear that she couldn't speak aloud.

With a discerning stare, her velvety blue lover nodded his head in sudden understanding. He whispered soothing words against her cheek as he stretched his limber body over the edge of the bed and delved into the tote bag. He came back up with the box of foil wrapped contraceptives Rory had so hopefully gifted to her.

"I understand." He assured her. It had been so long since he'd had need of one of these things, he fumbled with it for a moment as he put it on. But, she was right. This was not the time to risk another pregnancy.

Rachel looked at up him with shame as he hovered over her. His crucifix dangled between them, almost touching her ring, as if reminding her of her lack of faith. A couple were always supposed to be open to the possibility of a child. That children were gifts bestowed by God. Her tears turned to quiet sobs as she buried her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Kurt...I just can't risk..." She couldn't bear the thought of having another baby that could be ripped away from her. Gracie's memory was still too fresh, still too painful. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Kurt assured her, taking her hands from her face. He looked at her, with no judgment in his extraordinary eyes. Instead, he held her to him and whispered gently, "Perhaps, one day..." He shook his head, suddenly fighting back his own emotions. Perhaps, one day Gracie's murder would not be such a jagged knife against his heart. Perhaps, one day, they would both be ready to accept another child into their hearts and into their lives. But, right now, they needed to just try to accept each other back. And, as they drew together in a rhythm they both knew by heart, they began to do just that.

* * *

From his vantage point, things were going very well. People were just machines. Granted, incredibly complex machines, but machines all the same. Once he finally understood that, he began to make significant progress on his plans. Press this button, watch that reaction. Rap the knee, watch the leg jerk.

Push the situation beyond their parameters to cope and watch the marriage fall apart. To get all three of her family members in one fatal blow was truly a windfall. He was beginning to believe Rachel was never going to let that little abomination out of her sight. But, his patience had finally paid off. That and good old uncle Joe's bravado.

_Thanks, Joe._

Then, plant the seeds of reconciliation and watch it bloom into the X-rated scene before him. Eating his popcorn, he couldn't help give a little commentary here and there. But, when he watched Nightcrawler's tail disappear between her legs, he couldn't quite believe she'd actually let him – then he watched her jump and moan enticingly.

_Oh Rachel, that's just kinky..._

He felt his own erection growing as he watched the two on the screen. Reaching over, he stroked her hair. The long disembodied ponytail was still every bit as silky as he had remembered it being so long ago.

_You miss her long hair, don't you Nightcrawler? I don't blame you. A woman's hair is her glory? She didn't even give me a fight over it._

He'd have to see to his own mounting need very soon. But he didn't want to leave this movie till the final credits started rolling. The big finish finally came as the participants did. Nightcrawler's back arched inhumanly as Rachel thrust her head back against the bed, both of them crying out in sweet ecstasy. Then, the lovers spooned up like the sweethearts they were.

Fondling her bound hair in one hand, he fantasized about the near future when he'd put that mutant freak back in its place. When he'd make Nightcrawler watch as he took back EVERYTHING that was his.


	10. Panic Attack

A special thanks to Webaholic for agreeing to proof for me!! Salute!

ax - thanks for the review! I'm hoping you're drooling in a good way! :-) ha ha!

* * *

For the first night in months, Rachel fell asleep sober. Once or twice, she woke up and looked around in a drowsy slumber, felt Kurt's arms around her, and heard his steady heart beat in his chest. In his sleep, he would rub her arm with his hand and mumble loving whispers till she was lulled back to sleep. And, for the first time in six months, Rachel dreamed of the future, instead of the past.

But the morning light was harsh as it glared off the snow into her windows. She lazily stretched out and sat up suddenly as she found herself alone in the bed. She strained her ears to try to hear her Blue. In the shower or maybe the kitchen? But the entire apartment was silent.

"Kurt?" She called out. But only silence answered. "Blue?....Where are you?..." Her voice trailed off. The fireplace still flickered and gave warmth to the room. But it did not stop the cold that ran through the dark hair gypsy as she realized Kurt was gone.

She looked outside, on her terrace snow piled up three feet deep. There was no way the snow plows could have made all the streets passable yet. But, her Blue was a teleporter. If he really wanted to leave, it wouldn't have been difficult.

_But he said...._

_Said what? _She berated herself. _That you were a good woman? Obviously his judgment was impaired. He didn't promise you anything last night! _

To give into candle light and wine was one thing. To jump headfirst back into the mess she called her life was quite another. While she still couldn't quite believe he'd have just up and left, it was better that he was gone. Better for him.

Biting her lip to fight back useless tears, she drew her knees up to her chin and rested her forehead on them. Wrapped in her lonely sheets, she began to feel a great ache of loneliness and wondered if any of that wine was left. Numb was better than lonely.

"Guten Morgen!"

Rachel suddenly jumped and gave a startled cry as an overly merry Kurt stuck his face in hers, upside down. She craned her neck to see he was clinging to the wall behind the bed, easily contorting himself to greet her, grinning from ear to ear. How long had that prankster been hanging up there just waiting to scare her?!

"Holy Mary! Mother of God!!" she swore, desperately trying to draw air into her lungs before she fainted. "Kurt Wagner!" She swatted at him. "You are going to be the death of me!!" There was a time when that statement would have brought a sobering effect. But, that was a time the two rarely thought on anymore.

He let her hit him. A self appointed penance for scaring her. "I come bearing breakfast." He had already showered, dressed and 'bamfed' his imaged-induced self all the way to the closest restaurant insane enough to be open the day after a blizzard. In his hands, he held breakfast in a sack and a cup of coffee. A second cup of coffee was coiled up in his tail.

In an acrobatic move that made her dizzy just to watch, Kurt twisted and flipped to settle himself next to her, keeping the coffee cups upright at all times. Truly, an amazing feat. Rachel was so relieved to see him, she couldn't even pretend to be irked at his antics. She wrapped her arms around his chest in a tight hug

Kurt was taken back by her sudden embrace, but quickly recovered and hugged her back as best he could without the use of his appendages. What had brought this on?

"Really, it's just bagels and coffee..." he joked as he studied her. The thought didn't even occur to him that she'd have taken his brief absence as abandonment. That he'd have taken his pleasure with her and hit the road.

After a second she broke away, her cheeks tinted with embarrassment. "What kind of bagels?" She peeked in the bag. Kurt handed her the cup in his tail.

"Two creams, no sugar?" He knew how she like her coffee. Just like she knew he liked his coffee black. It gave her a comfortable feeling. She smiled into her cup as she took a sip.

Becoming aware of her lack of clothing, Rachel looked around for her missing night shirt. A wriggling flash of fabric caught her eye as Kurt's tail waved her nightshirt behind him like some sort of victory flag.

"Looking for this?" He teased, sweeping it above her head in an effort to make her let go of the sheet protecting her modesty. She nearly fell for it, reaching with her free hand as the soft white sheet slid down slightly.

"You're in a mood, this morning!" she scolded, yanking the sheet back up to her neck. Half laughing, she tried unsuccessful to snag the shirt again. "Give it back!"

"This?" Kurt studied the shirt in his tail for a moment. "I will be glad to, Leibe." He raised his eyebrows mischievously. "What will you give me in return?

Pursing her lips in mock anger, she narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?" She was already setting her coffee cup down on the nightstand and letting the bed sheet fall to her waist. Her lips curled into a knowing, seductive smile.

The silver tongued devil lost his clever retort as he looked her up and down. All the blood in his head began rushing to other parts of his body. She relieved him of the sack and cup in his hands. Soon the breakfast sat forgotten on the nightstand next to two cooling cups of coffee as she pushed him down on the bed and tossed her nightshirt on the floor.

Afterwards, Rachel stood at the French doors leading out onto her roof top terrace wearing her Blue's button up shirt and little else. The snow drifts piled against the doors came up to her waist. Her hands were only shaking a little as she drank her lukewarm coffee. She smiled as she heard Kurt come up behind her, clad in his pajama bottoms, wrapping them both in a thick, downy comforter. She leaned back against him, able to forget all the pain and hurt of the last six months as the snow left them cocooned against the world.

He nuzzled her neck as he choose his next words carefully. Sex, while it was fantastic, did not heal a marriage as broken as theirs. She might have let him back in her bed, but they had a long way to go. Best to start slow, test the waters.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" he asked, casually, planting a kiss on her shoulder. "Going to Christmas Mass anywhere?" Church was a good, neutral topic for them. He couldn't help but notice there was not a single festive decoration in her home. It was as if anything joyful was banned here.

Rachel shrugged, "Not sure. I'll probably be working. I have a conference in Hong Kong next month. It would be a good idea to get there a little early. You know, size up the competition."

He took the plunge. "Why don't you come out the mansion for a couple of days?"

The words were soft and enticing. She shifted uncertainly. There was absolutely no way Kurt's team members would let her back in that house after the terrific mess she'd left behind. She shook her head. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Blue. We both know the others don't want me back there."

"_I_ want you there." His voice begged no argument as he tightened his hold on her. Then he backed off a little. "Just come out for Christmas. It's only a couple of days." He tried to compromise. "If you want to leave, I'll bring you back here. I promise."

For a long moment, Rachel sat on the fence, unsure. Then she felt herself giving into his gentle hands as they caressed her, encouraging her. Every fiber of her being screamed, "NO!" as she turned to him. She laid her head against his bare chest and smiled, following her heart instead of her senses. "All right..." She'd never been able to say no to him, not really.

Kurt barely had a chance to give her his trademark grin and delicious kiss, when Rachel's temples began to throb in pain. She rubbed them with her fingertips. Where was her purse??

"Shatz??" Kurt's eyes widened in alarm as Rachel drew up in pain. "What's wrong??"

"Just a migraine..." she managed, determined not to let him see that her brain felt like it was exploding inside her cranium. "I'll be fine. I just need the medicine in my purse."

Migraines? She'd never had migraines, before. Kurt looked around. "Did you bring your purse up with you?" The black Prada was nowhere to be found. He tore through the apartment while Rachel's pain worsened.

He was about to 'port to his car to check there, when Rachel collapsed on the floor, clutching her head in a vise with her hands and crying out in agony. Kurt grabbed her up and saw her pupils constrict as she began convulsing. If he'd been thinking clearly, he'd have taken her to the nearest emergency room, but all he could think was that his wife was in trouble, maybe dying... That, and that he was forty miles from what could possibly be the most advanced medical unit on earth. Swinging her up in his arms, he concentrated as hard and as far as he could and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

* * *

The Medbay was in a lull. Not even a decent sprain to mend, Hank thought with a wistful sigh. He actually found himself wishing something exciting would happen.

It did.

Without a warning, the enormous blue furred mutant found himself engulfed in smoke as an exhausted Nightcrawler emerged, wearing only a pair of black pajama bottoms and carrying a limp form in his arms.

"Herr McMoy..." he managed, trying to stay conscious himself. "Rachel..."

If Hank was rattled by the sudden emergency, he hid it well. With a swiftness that seemed impossible for someone so large, he took the young woman out of his teammate's arms, laid her on the exam table and pushed a chair at Kurt who collapsed in it.

"What happened?" He was all business with his pen light and stethoscope. Pupils were sluggish to dilate and constrict. Heart was beating so fast, it was almost fluttering.

Pulling air into his burning lungs, Kurt managed "She started to complain of a headache. Then she...she collapsed. I think she started having a seizure." A feather could've knocked him over, he was so weak from so many 'ports so quickly. It wasn't the furthest he'd ever teleported, but it was the fastest.

Working a myriad of medical contraptions - Kurt could only guess their functions - Hank started to work. So much for the lull....

* * *

Oversleeping was his vice. There was something wonderfully decadent about sleeping in. He felt he'd earned the right. He'd been very busy over the past few days. Clearing out all Rachel's frumpy pajamas, disconnecting the living room fireplace, cutting power to the building, arranging her car's break down; all that took precise timing and planning. And, he'd been planning this for _so_ long.

Besides, it wasn't as if he had to keep an eye on his two love birds every second. They weren't going anywhere. If the snow wasn't enough to keep them where they belonged, Rachel's directives were. Her subconscious fully understood that they was not to leave her apartment once she got Nightcrawler there. She knew what would happen if she disobeyed or failed. So, when he went to his monitors and found an empty bedroom, he frowned. By the time he checked the bathrooms, kitchen, living room, study, and spare room, he was bewildered and angry beyond words. How had Nightcrawler circumvented her conditioning? Was that mutant's hold over her so powerful, she'd obey _it_ over him??

This was a problem. Where had they gone? Though the streets were passable now, Nightcrawler's car was still in the garage. He scanned back through video logs. He stopped short at the image of the two having sex earlier that morning. He smirked lustfully at the image of Rachel, in all her glory astride that blue furred mutie.

_You always did like to be on top._

For a moment, he started to go back and make sure they were using condoms both times. There would be no more using his beautiful Rachel as an incubator for Nightcrawler's subhuman spawn. He could have kissed Rory for his unwitting help. An ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure. But, he would hold onto her morning after pills – just in case.

Forcing himself to fast forward to more pressing matters, he stopped again. Nightcrawler was all but ordering her to leave with him and return to Xavier's school. And, at first, he was proud of Rachel. She refused. But, then, his eyes turned dark with ire as that genejoke stroked and fondled her till she was completely unable to say no. Then, the pain began. That should have triggered her conditioning. It should have prompted her to take her pills. Why didn't she take her pills?? As he watched he realized she couldn't find them. That stupid bitch! She'd lose her damn head if it wasn't screwed on.

He forced himself to calm down. It was a small matter. If her body had become acclimated to her current level of discomfort, he'd just turn it up a notch. Her subcommands could be triggered from almost anywhere. With a press of a button, he called her home.

* * *

Okey Dokey! Time to hit that review button and let me know what you think!!


	11. Disappearing Act

Rachel awoke in strange surroundings. Her first thought was panic as she saw a mind numbing array of medical instruments and steadily clicking machines around her. For a split second she was back at Alkali Base, her body being poked, prodded, and invaded by monsters wearing clean white lab coats trying to get at her baby.

_Gracie... _

Her head felt full of cotton as she tried to push through the dull throbbing, trying to get herself alert. The more alert she became, the more aware she was that this couldn't be Alkali. It was too clean, too nice. She felt the weight of a light blanket on her bare legs. She had never been offered a blanket in that place. No, this couldn't be Alkali...

"Welcome, back..." That voice was familiar. Fatherly and commanding at the same time. She knew she should know that voice. Turning her head, she found herself looking at a smiling Professor Xavier. "You've been out for some time now."

The first question she tried to formulate wasn't where was she or what happened. The very first question she needed answered was, _'Where is Blue?'_ Then, she felt a unique three fingered hand in hers that answered her question. Kurt was right beside her. Of course. Where else would he be?

She turned to him and smiled a little, so grateful he was near. In turn, he squeezed her hand and gave quiet assurances that she was going to be fine.

"What happened?" She whispered. The last thing she remembered was being in her apartment with a terrible, blinding pain setting her brain on fire.

"That is what we're trying to figure out." Hank answered, helping her sit up. The room spun around several times before she finally got her bearings. He asked her all the standard questions. One by one he ruled out illness, infection and injury.

Looking down, Rachel blushed. She pulled the pale blue blanket tighter around her, as she realized she was still clad in only Kurt's shirt.

She hoped some of her clothes were still packed up around the mansion. "Kurt, I don't suppose I have any clothes somewhere do I?" she whispered to the blue mutant's ear, noticing _he_ was only wearing pajama bottoms.

Dear God, they'd never live this down.

Before Kurt could reply, there was an answer from the doorway. "No need. Had your car towed here. Your luggage was still in the trunk." She peeked around Hank's bulk to see Logan leaning in the doorway, a suitcase in his hand. With a curious frown she started to ask _why_ it had been brought here. Then, seeing the scowl on his face, she decided Logan was NOT the person to ask about her car. In fact, he was probably NOT the person to ask about _anything_...

Logan dropped the bag on the floor beside her with a thump. He wasn't wild about her being here. But Kurt was his friend. He'd do a lot for his friends. Even endure their crazy ex-wives...up to a point. However, he'd endure this one from a distance as he stalked back out the door and back up to the main levels.

"Thank you..." she mumbled to the beserker's disappearing backside, blanket wrapped around her, trying to work her way off the table without flashing nearly every single male member of the team. Thank God, at least she was wearing underwear!

As her feet touched the floor, that terrifying throb began in her temples again. Immediately, she turned loose of the blanket and brought her hands up to her head, trying to squeeze the pain out. Her legs buckled beneath her as she crumbled to her knees, Hank grabbed her up, practically tossing her back on the table. His gaze was concerned. Xavier's gaze was alarmed. Kurt was outright panicked.

With surprising agility, she rolled off the other side of the table and scrambled away, pushing past Kurt as he tried to halt her.

"I have to l-leave..." she managed through clenched teeth, still holding her head. "I have to...to..." Her apartment. She had to get back to her apartment. Her medicine was at her apartment. The pain would stop once she back there. She became completely fixated on that one thought.

"Rachel-" Kurt pulled her up short as she stumbled towards the door, disoriented and almost hysterical.

She turned towards him, balling her fists up and beating Kurt's bare chest. "Take me back!!" she demanded, practically shrieking in anger.

In defense, he easily grabbed her fists in his hands and held them tight. "Rachel!" He spoke in an authoritative tone he rarely used. "You are ill and you are not going anywhere!" His harsh tone made her stop short and brought her eyes up to meet his. "Now, get back on the exam table and let Doktor McCoy help you!"

Her demeanor turned from anger to desperation. "Please, Kurt! Please...I have to go..." Her eyes started to roll back in her head. "I..." and her head lolled backwards as another seizure came on.

Kurt slid to the floor with her to cushion her fall. She hardly heard him screaming her name.

"Step back."

Xavier was such a powerful presence, that Hank could not think of a single time the man had ever had to raise his voice. Without a word of dissent, the much larger mutant stepped aside. Kurt stayed as he was on the floor, holding his wife tight as she jerked and spasmed in his arms. His tail lashed the floor in panic.

By now, Rachel was convulsing again, even worse than before. She had to get home. Her medicine was at home. But as the pain escalated, she was unable to speak, unable to even think. She couldn't make them understand that she didn't have a choice. She had to obey...

Then, she felt a presence inside her mind. The pain and convulsions receded, fleeing from the calm warmth that flooded into her, just as darkness flees from light. Drowsiness overcame her. The last clear thought she had was Kurt picking her up and laying her back on the exam table. She felt him take her hand again and squeeze it as she faded into slumber.

* * *

"Well, Hell if I know, Tracy!!" Daniel scrunched up the bridge of his nose and rubbed it with his fingertips as Rachel's assistant chattered like an anxious magpie on the other end of the phone. Rachel had a conference call at this morning with the branch in Hong Kong. Not only did she not make the call, she wasn't answering her cell or her home phone. When Daniel suggested she try Rachel's dedicated frequency line, the one she had used the night before, Tracy was down right mystified. She insisted Rachel had refused such a thing.

"Yes, I do realize when it's 8:00 am here, it's 9:00 pm there." Daniel bit his tongue to keep from saying what he really wanted to say. "Yes, I'm sure they were very upset that she wasn't there...No, I don't think they don't blame you personally..."

Rory couldn't help but chuckle as Daniel rolled his eyes to the heavens. He could barely get a word in edgewise as Tracy fussed and fumed and _retold_ the story, yet again, of how she'd had to make up excuses for why their boss blew off the conference.

Daniel nodded and held out his coffee cup as his partner silently offered to refill it. Setting the coffee pot down, Rory went back to the living room and back to the job of wrapping presents. The room was in a rare clutter as wrapping paper, ribbon, and gifts lay scattered on every available surface. As he cut a length of red and gold paper, he couldn't help being a little down hearted. He made the mistake of getting his hopes up this time. He really thought they'd be celebrating Christmas as a family this year. The last minute rejection by the baby's birth mother had devastated him. He sat down his scissors and let his mind drift back to the conversation he'd had with Rachel.

_What about a mutant?_

He actually knew very little about mutants, other than they were even more ostracized than homosexuals. But Rachel's uncle Joe had been determined to fight for them. And, Rachel had taken up his banner after his murder. She'd hired Daniel on permanent retainer to be her blood hound. But that role expanded to include nanny and body guard. He accompanied her everywhere she went. Even more so than her PA. Under different circumstances, Rory would have been jealous. After all, the two did have a long friendship that flirted with romance once upon a time. But - he couldn't help but smile - Danny was as loyal as they came. So much so that he pushed his own feelings about mutants aside to help Rachel. Daniel disliked mutants. Or maybe he was just frightened of them? Either way, Rory doubted his partner could ever accept a baby with an X-gene. He could never be the parent of a mutant. Fastening the glittering foil paper with a touch of invisible tape, he leaned his ear up to hear Daniel still trying to get off the phone.

Rory wondered if he'd be invited to go to Hong Kong. Often he was included on these trips. Even when he sat Rachel down and explained to her that he was NOT jealous, on any level, of amount of time she and Daniel spent together. Rachel had only smiled enigmatically and said she knew what it felt like to be the one left behind to sit and wait. Even Daniel didn't know what she had meant by that.

The very first trip Rory had gone on was a short jaunt to Washington DC shortly after Daniel had gone to work for Rachel. A bill had been introduced to Congress to pass the Mutant Registration Act in a new reincarnation. The bill was to approve funding for prenatal testing for the mysterious X-gene. Rachel had used all Donivan Enterprise's clout to arrange a closed-door panel meeting with the key committee members.

She did not offer up arguments on moral obligations or the slippery slope they were going down as had been the practice of every other mutant rights advocate. Instead, once Rachel was seated at the enormous, lavish table she turned and asked the two of them to please give her five minutes alone with these self righteous S.O.B.'s. Amongst the insulted murmuring of the committee members, Daniel whispered something in her ear, obviously reluctant to leave her. Rachel smiled and patted his hand comfortingly. When they came back, five minutes later, they came back to a changed panel. The smug arrogance and moral superiority were gone. They were replaced by emotions ranging from anger to downright terror. He couldn't help but wonder what Rachel had managed to say in five minutes that had such an impact on these professional politicians. But the bill failed and was quietly tucked away. It went from being the next big story to being a tiny blurb buried in the newspaper. Then it was forgotten all together. But Rachel was not forgotten. She had made powerful enemies that day.

He was shaken from his thoughts as a disgruntled Daniel came shrugging in into the room. "Rachel is MIA again..." He sighed.

Shrugging, Rory grinned a little. "Maybe she's just sleeping in?" He pulled the adhesive strip off the back of a foil bow and carefully attached it to the newly wrapped present. "That German with her was a cutie! Maybe she had slumber party..."

Daniel gave Rory a kiss. "Thanks Rory, but I could do without that image in my head." he teased, setting his cup down on the only clear spot on the coffee table. "Now," he held up the newly wrapped gift, shifting the conversation and trying to keep his worry from getting the better of him, "who is this for?"

* * *

He was tired of waiting. If she'd been able to get back here, she'd be here by now. Reluctantly, he disengaged her neural subprograms. Hurting her further was pointless right now. He hated having to use this device at all. It hurt him to see her writhe in pain when she disobeyed him.

_Why do you make me hurt you?_

He sighed. In time, she'd understand that this was for the best. That he was making a better life for her, for them both. But, right now, he had other problems to contend with. She had been taken in by the Freak Squad again.

The gold Audi sat waiting for its master to claim it. He fantasized about wearing Nightcrawler's pelt as a jacket, as he made his way to the unheated garage. Actually, he was fantasizing about the musical screams he would elicit from the blue furred demon as he flayed him alive – _then_ turned his velvety, dark blue fur into a coat.

If he couldn't get Rachel to come back here on her own, he just have to dangle a carrot out for her. A spade-tailed, pointed-eared, too-freakish-for-words carrot. Stryker had used Rachel to get Nightcrawler. He'd use Nightcrawler to get Rachel. Feeling better, he started humming a little tune as he popped the hood of the car and got a little surprise ready.

* * *

Okey-dokey! What's the verdict? Review and let me know what you're thinking!!

Thanks! :-)


	12. Runaway

_Somewhere remote and hidden – present day_

The injection of Tranxene had merely taken the edge off her hysteria. She lay strapped to the table, her legs hiked up in stirrups, pleading with anyone who would listen.

"Please!" She cried, "Please, don't do this..." The room took on a rosy glow as the sedative worked further into her system. "I'm just a kid. Please...I want to go home..."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears as she felt herself being prepped for the transfer. This couldn't be happening to her. Why?? Why had she ever run away from home?? Life at home wasn't that bad. Not as bad as this place...nothing was as bad as this place.

She didn't even know _where_ she was. She'd hit the highway after a final blow up with her mom. It wasn't the first time she'd run away, but this time she promised herself she was leaving for good. Her summer job had left her with a little money put back. Enough to get her the Hell out of this one horse town. It didn't take long to realize five hundred dollars didn't go far.

Broke and alone and hungry, she heard about a half way house that took in runaway girls. The only rule was that you had to be clean and sober. Looking back now, she felt so completely stupid. She had been naive to think those people would have simply taken her in, no questions asked. Come and go as you please. Free food, free room. She wondered how much they'd gotten for her when they sold her to this place?

She spent the first few weeks here trying to escape. Then, the next few weeks trying to figure out what in the Hell this place was and what they were doing here. Then, after failing miserably on both fronts, she finally just sat in her cell and waited. Waited for her food, waited for the chance to use the showers, waited for her turn on the transplant table.

Suddenly, as she felt a speculum being inserted, she burst into tears, thrashing her head wildly and pulling at her restraints. A guard quickly brought her under control with the threat of his taser arching madly a few inches from her defenseless flesh. She stopped fighting the inevitable and eyed him, quivering.

"Why so upset, 27?" He asked.

_Maggie! My name is Maggie, damn you! _She screamed in her mind, _I'm seventeen years old. I go to Oakland High. My mom's name is Patty and we live on Seminole Street in Haydenville, Florida. My favorite food is Chicago style pepperoni pizza. I have a pet fish..._She kept repeating these things to herself as they tried to scrub away her memories. She could no longer remember the fish's name. She knew it was a Beta fish with a long blue tail, but she couldn't remember its name. She had spent an entire night crying when she realized that they'd stolen that damned fish's name from her.

Stroking her hair as she lay on her back, the guard crooned in mock concern. "It's not so bad. Don't you know this will mean more food, warmer quarters?" His smile turned jeering. "I mean, it's not the first time you've spread your legs for extra rations and a blanket."

Defeated, the young girl with the number '27' emblazoned on her forehead, simply wept as she felt an uncomfortable sensation between her spread legs. She knew what they were doing. She didn't know why. But she knew the rumors. Girls healthy enough for transplants ended up here on this table. Ended up as incubators. The rest simply...disappeared.

_This can't be happening to me...please, I want to go home...my favorite food is Chicago style pepperoni pizza..._

She had seen what some of the older girls looked like. The ones who'd been surrogates a few times. It was like they were dead inside. No spark, no life in their eyes. Just human machines that existed solely to breed horrific creatures for the researchers here. None of things born here were human. None of them. She'd never actually seen any of them, but her cell mate had told her that she'd seen two. One was covered in scales. The other one had too many legs and not enough eyes; it was killed as soon as it was birthed. As the speculum was removed, she knew she was incubating one of of these monsters now.

_Please, I want to go home...I have a pet fish..._

* * *

Rachel lay on the table in a peaceful sleep induced by Xavier as he gently probed her mind. It was obvious, even at first glance that her intense pain and sudden outbursts were the result of some outside force. He could sense a great degree of telepathic manipulation. She was not being controlled in the sense that she had no free will. But there was undeniable evidence that her actions and reactions had been conditioned to produce a desired result. The neural bypasses and blocks he was encountering as he gazed over her mind were disturbingly very familiar. Xavier's face made a distinct frown of displeasure.

Reclining, the professor tapped his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair, choosing his words carefully. As the two resident blue mutants, Beast and Nightcrawler, paid rapt attention, Xavier explained that this manipulation had been going on for some time. Perhaps even before she had left the school. However, he hadn't found evidence of another person in her mind, nor evidence of the normal scarring left behind by machinery designed for mental conditioning. So, if it wasn't done by a person, and it wasn't done by a machine...how was this being accomplished?

Kurt had crawled up on the bed, easily finding space for himself beside Rachel on the narrow table. With an almost a predatory expression, he hissed. "Who has done this to her??" His tail twined itself tightly around the mechanisms under the exam table to keep from whipping about in worry and anger.

His mind was reeling from Xavier's revelation that someone was 'conditioning' Rachel. Obviously, if she went against her controller, she was 'punished.' It gave him a sick, angry, gut wrenching feeling to see her suffering like this and to be helpless to stop it.

"I wish I knew, Kurt." Xavier shook his head, sighing. He didn't have to be a telepath to read the fierce emotions raging from his newest X-Man. "She has no inkling she's under any kind of outside influence. I believe whoever is doing this is in a position to be close to her without raising suspicion."

Finally he backed away from the comatose woman and gave her husband a long steadfast stare. "I don't know who's done this to her, or why. But, you have my word, we _will_ find out. And, we will undo it."

For the time being it was decided to keep their knowledge from Rachel. It was possible that her assailant could have embedded a kill switch in her brain to activate if ever she learned of her situation. None of them wanted to risk that. So till they drew more information, it was mutually decided best to keep their patient in the dark for now.

* * *

"You know she's just going to keep calling don't you?" Rory couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice as Daniel groaned. The incessant chirping of his cell phone marked the fourth time Rachel's assistant had called in two hours.

"If I weren't already gay...you'd drive me to it, you nagging, needle-nosed harpy!!" Daniel growled at the offensive phone. He turned off the ringer and thrust the phone in between the cushions of the sofa. Good God, that woman was impossible! Why Rachel had hired her was beyond him.

Rory stood up and stretched his lean, but muscular, body as he tried not to laugh at his lover's antics. "If no one's heard from her by tomorrow, why don't we just swing by? We're going to be over in that part of town anyway..."

Daniel gave a surrendering smile. Rory. Always the voice of compromise and reason. The reason he'd given up his family five years ago. His father had not returned a single call or letter in five years . He stood and pulled the shorter man to him. "Tomorrow is so long from now..." he teased, his smile turning into a devilish grin. "Whatever will we do with our time till then??"

* * *

Rachel felt as if she was coming out from under a heavy blanket as she was lifted back up into consciousness. Thankfully, the pain was gone. Kurt helped her sit up and stayed close to her side as they made their way upstairs. It wasn't often that she found herself in the underground half of this school, in the citadel of power as it were. It made her a little sad. It reminded her of a part of Kurt she could never share. A part of Gracie she could have never shared.

Rachel forced her mind from such miserable musings and flushed with embarrassment. She attempted to stretch her blanket over as much of her exposed body as humanly possible when a lone student strolled past the end of the hallway. Fortunately, it was winter break and those students lucky enough to have a home to visit where doing just that. So the halls were emptier than normal. Kurt had offered to 'port her, but she'd already been bamfed forty miles today. That was quite enough for one day!

When they opened the bedroom door, Rachel froze for a moment. This was the battle ground of their last big fight. This was were he'd told her he couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't hold their marriage together any longer.

For a moment, her mind drifted back.

She remembered she'd almost made a clean getaway. Her bag packed, keys in hand, she reached for the door only to have it open on her. She'd never be able to forget the look in Kurt's golden eyes when he'd seen the suitcase. The initial shock was quickly replaced by a look of betrayal and surrender.

"Where are you going?" His voice was dead, defeated. He was done arguing with her, pleading with her.

"I'm not sure." She clenched her fist around the bag handle caught in her grip. "It's better this way..."

"Were you going to leave me a goodbye letter or just let me figure it out on my own?" The anger started to rise, but it was beaten down by grief and weariness.

"I...I was going to call you..." The tears were welling up again. _Why us? Why wouldn't the world just leave us alone?_ "...when you got back."

"I'm here now. Tell me." He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. "Say it to my face."_ You owe me that much._

"I'm leaving."

It was quiet and faint...and final. But, to her credit, she met his extraordinary eyes with hers, her stare never wavering. Out of obligation, she sat down the suitcase and slid her ring off her finger. "Here...this...this is yours..." She offered, reluctantly handing him her most prized possession, her wedding ring.

Kurt folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head. "I gave it you." He refused it.

Unable to give it away, or put it back on, she shoved it in the pocket of her blue jeans. "I'll give you a call in a few days..."

Kurt almost chuckled, shaking his head. He knew her better than that. "No, you won't."

He reached in the jacket he was wearing over his uniform and pulled out a slim communicator. "Here, take this. In case, you ever need..."

Need what??...need help?...need him?

"Here. Take it. Just press the top." His finger brushed over the button.

With a tiny grimace-like smile, she took it and shoved in her pocket on top of her ring. There were no more words. Their life together flashed before her eyes as it came to an end.

She leaned up to kiss him. A long, slow kiss good bye.

"We can find you another room..." Kurt's voice shocked her back to the present. She turned to see him staring at her, uncertain. "You-you don't have to sleep here...with me." That pained him. This had been his idea, but now that she was here, he didn't want to assume too much. She could see it in his eyes.

She shook her head. "No, Blue." A small, quiet smile brushed over her lips. "I want to sleep here....with you." Clinging to her blanket with one hand, she slipped her free hand up his muscular chest to his neck as she leaned up to kiss him. A long, slow kiss.

* * *

Okey dokey! Please, click that all important review button! I'd love to know what you're thinking!!


	13. Safe and Sound

Hope everyone had a GREAT Holiday!

Please don't forget to R & R! - (Thanks to everyone who already has reviewed! It makes my day!)

* * *

Clad in jeans from her suitcase and one of Kurt's long sleeved thermal shirts, Rachel wandered the halls of the school. It was funny. Blue often grumbled when she pilfered his clothes. Shirts mostly. Sometimes socks. His sweatpants were safe though...too much ventilation for those not gifted with a prehensile tail. But all that grumbling just seemed to make her want to wear his clothes even more. She wondered if he knew that.

Shaking her head, she skipped lightly down the stairs. Of course he did. Kurt knew almost everything there was to know about her. At least everything up to four months ago. Her sock clad feet were silent on the hardwood as she headed towards the kitchen. It was well after lunch and she and Kurt had skipped breakfast all together.

Her mind rambled as she made her way down the familiar hallways. Could she come back here? Even if all the others welcomed her back, could she make this place her home again? How could she balance Donivan Enterprises with a family. She knew, eventually, Kurt would want children again. Did she? She stopped for a moment. The truth was...no. She didn't want another child. She _never_ wanted to go through that again. She picked up her pace, trying to leave that pain behind her.

Turning the corner into the kitchen, she was brought out of her musings with a start as she came face to face with Logan, on a stool, hunched over the island's bar. He was glaring down at the headlines, with a drink bottle in his hand. She was going to assume it was a soda and not a beer. He raised his eyes and met her with an even, heavy stare.

"Hi, Logan." She nodded, trying to smile. "Mind if I see that when you're done?" She motioned to the paper. She was about to ask him if there was anything interesting going on in the world when he stood up, abruptly. The stool made a screeching sound on the tile floor as it was shoved backwards.

Thrusting the paper in her hands, he stalked out with two words. "I'm done."

"Don't you mean, 'I'm done, _bitch_'?" she whispered, letting out a sigh as Kurt found her.

Claiming the bar stool Logan had just abandoned, Kurt pulled his legs up on either side on him, more comfortable perching than sitting. "Is everything all right?" His head cocked to the side as he studied her from across the island.

Rachel drew in a breath and tossed the newspaper into the garbage. "Fine." She brushed her discomfort away and opened the fridge. "I'm starving. You hungry?"

Kurt nodded his head. "Ja." He hated it when Rachel lied to him. He'd seen Logan stalking down the hallway, but he let it go for now. His eyes narrowed.

"Is that my shirt??" he asked with a note of disapproval in his accented voice.

With as innocent an expression as she could muster, she looked down at the shirt as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh!...you know, I think it might just be..." Her expression turned into a sly grin.

Just as a quick lunch was winding down, Bobby Drake stuck his head in the doorway. "Hey, Kurt! Rogue and I were headed-" He stopped short at the tall brunette standing in the kitchen, putting away a loaf of bread.

_Was that Kurt's shirt?_ _Well, Merry Christmas to him!!_

"Hey Bobby!" Rachel's smile was genuine. Bobby was probably one of the easiest going of the X-Men. He should have been one of the students headed home for the holidays. He had a perfect family who lived in a perfect subdivision with a perfect life. But mutants were not meant for perfect lives.

Her heart ached for him. To be turned away by your own parents for the genetics _they_ gave you...it was a cruel world. She knew this had to be a hard Christmas for him, but he didn't hide behind self pity. She could take a lesson from Bobby Drake.

"Rachel!" Bobby hopped in the room and offered her a great hug which she immediately seized. "It's good to see you!" He looked over her shoulder as he squeezed her in a hug to give Kurt a speculative, questioning look. Kurt merely shrugged and smiled.

"It's good to be seen." She answered, sincerely glad to see him. "Where are you headed off to in such a hurry?" She asked, releasing him from her hug.

He released her and thumbed over his shoulder. "Rogue and I were headed down to lake. It finally froze over enough to skate on." His enthusiasm was contagious. "Want to come along?" His boyish grin bubbled up. "I got skates..." he offered enticingly.

Kurt and Rachel stared at each other for a moment. Part of Kurt wanted to say no. He and Rachel needed time alone. Mostly, he had to figure out a way to get her to stay here, in the safety of the mansion, where Professor Xavier could block her telepathic abuse. _And_ he had to do it without letting her know what they were up to.

But as he perched atop the stool, watching Rachel's hopeful expression, his memories led him back to Alkali Lake. In his mind's eye, he could still see her, very pregnant and horribly beaten, kneeling peacefully in the snow, letting it be her comfort as she gathered it in her dirty, bloodied fingers. How could he deny his wife something that brought her so much contentment?

"I'm game if you are..." Rachel ventured with a breath of adventure in her voice. She saw a brief hesitation in her Blue before he acquiesced. She felt sure he wanted to talk. But she didn't. At least, not yet. Her mind began churning up the details of what she'd been doing since leaving this place. She wanted to put off their 'talk' as long as possible.

* * *

Frigid air burned their noses and lungs and they bundled crew stared out over the lake. It was a beautifully stark white expanse. Wind from the storm had blown the frozen surface clean and now the small group stared at it with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"Are you sure it's frozen enough?" Rogue, who had never ice skated in her life, asked testing the solidity of the ice next to the bank with one foot.

Almost insulted, Bobby's body crystallized into his frozen mutant appereance, momentarily. "Are you serious?" To prove his point, he slid several yards onto the lake and jumped up and down on it. "Satisfied?"

Rogue nodded, convinced for the most part anyway. Bobby slid back to them and metamorphosed back to his human guise. One by one, transformed their boots into ice skates with his ability to manipulate moisture into ice. Rachel looked at her new skates with a smile of appreciation. "I'm impressed."

His blushed on top of cold reddened face. "Thanks." Rachel was a lot of things, not least of those was pretty. Very pretty. Beautiful even. Bobby turned and smiled at his girlfriend. Rogue was very pretty too...

At first Kurt waved off an offer to transform his customized boots into skates, but at everyone's insistence he gave in. "I've never skated before..." he warned them.

"_You've_ never been skating??" Rachel was openly shocked, sitting beside him. "You're from Germany. How is it that even possible?"

Kurt chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "It's hard enough to find shoes that fit. Let alone ice skates."

"Well, you have some now." Rogue answered, teetering onto the ice, clinging to Bobby's arm. "Come on, you can't let me be the only out here falling on my rear!!" Just then she cried out as her feet went out from under her and she and Bobby fell in a tumble on the ice.

Kurt stepped onto the ice and balanced on his blades easily enough, getting used to the play of the skates against the ice. He kept his body relaxed, knees bent. He offered his hand to assist Rachel. Instead, he stared disbelieving, as she glided past him. She wobbled for a moment, then found her stride. Lunging forward on her right foot, she propelled herself several yards then made a fairly graceful turn, snowplowed to a stop and stared back at him.

"You comin'?" she called in her sweet southern drawl, a happy grin on her face. She'd surprised him. It was nice to know that she still had a few innocent secrets for him to discover. In a lazy fashion, she skated back to him.

"_You _can skate??" Kurt was honestly shocked. The sight of her gliding across the ice dumbfounded him. "Does it even get below freezing where you're from?"

Rachel nodded, with a rare giggle. "Inside a skating rink it does. My mother taught me." Her eyes went a little dim for a second.

Her mother had died in a car wreck when she was seven years old. Kurt remembered this because the summer before she died was the last time he'd see Rachel until she grew up and returned to him. She had been seven and he was eight. From the time she had been four, her mother had let Rachel spend her summers with her Aunt Lumi, traveling with the circus. Along with Jemaine, the threesome were always in mischief.

He moved across the ice, gaining confidence with every stride. Out of the blue, Kurt recalled a memory of a very world wise Jemaine telling a very naive Kurt and Rachel where babies came from. Chuckling at the memory, he wondered what those two children would have thought if they could have known one day they'd make a baby together. He bowed his head for a second, trying to chase away the stabbing pain that always accompanied Gracie's memory.

Kurt took to the ice the same way he did to everything that took agility and balance and skill. Soon he was gliding and turning with the best of them – that being Bobby. The little group laughed and played most of the afternoon till the sun started going down and the temperature with it.

For Kurt and Rachel, it was the first time they'd truly _played_ since before they'd fled Germany. First they were on the run and couldn't drop their guard long enough to do something as blissfully trivial as spending an afternoon skating. Then, they were captured by Stryker's men...the less said about that the better. And, at last, they were here. Starting a new life and a family had left the two with precious little time to spend on recreational diversions.

As the group made their way back up to the house, Rachel smiled as she watched Bobby take Rogue's gloved hand with his own. She looked up at the man walking beside her. Quietly, she slipped her hand in his. He gave her a warm smile and squeezed her hand. This afternoon had been a welcome respite from the past six months.

* * *

Back in their room, the two stripped off their wet, freezing clothes. After taking a hot shower and changing into fresh clothes, they laid down and flipped on the TV. Scanning through the channels, one of them dragged Rachel back into the real world.

"At the embassy in Hong Kong..."

"Oh shit!!" She groaned, slapping her hands over her face.

"Liebe??" Kurt frowned. "What's wrong?"

For a split second, Rachel warmly acknowledged that was the first time he'd called her by a pet name in a long time. But she had more pressing matters at the moment.

With her hands still over her face, she muttered. "I missed my conference call..."

"What conference call?"

She got off the bed, looking for a phone. "The conference call I had my assistant arrange and demanded everyone in the Hong Kong branch be at..."

'When was it?"

"While we were having sex this morning." She sighed bluntly, looking intently for the phone.

Kurt didn't know if he should laugh or not. He wasn't sure how seriously she'd been taking her role as CEO. He knew she'd been content to let Joe take care of matters. But now there was just her to keep her father's company on the straight and narrow. He looked at her in a new light. Having that kind of power and responsibility had to be a heavy load. Still, would she be willing to give that up to come back here and just be Rachel Wagner again?

She located the phone on the desk and snatched it up. He watched her dial and then wince like a errant school girl at the shrewish ranting on the other end of the phone. Rachel was barely able to slide a word in with a knife blade.

As soon as she was finished being tongue lashed by her assistant, Rachel called Daniel so he could do much the same. At least Daniel held some amount of amusement in his voice.

"Did I have a what?...a slumber-" She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "That's none of your business, Danny." She grinned at the reaction calling him 'Danny' got. She listened for a moment longer, then seemed to tense up a little. Kurt frowned as she gave him a quick look and took the phone into the bathroom, shutting the door. Kurt could hear that her voice was intense, but too muffled to make out the words without downright eavesdropping. She was off the phone when she came back in.

"So, what did Daniel want?" He asked, trying not to sound like he was prying.

Rachel shrugged. "Oh, nothing. Just business stuff...the usual..."

That made the second time today that she'd lied to him, Kurt thought darkly. But he had to stay on his best behavior. He knew if he pushed too hard, she'd leave. And for her own safety she couldn't. But he added it to the list of things they had to talk about eventually.

Soon the two were snuggled up on the bed, watching TV. Settling next to him, she laid her head on the hollow of his shoulder while he put his arm around her. They laid there in companionable silence. Almost immediately, Rachel fell asleep.

Kurt, however, found the simple pleasure of a nap elusive. He felt a nagging worry growing in the back of his mind. He knew Rachel was keeping something from him. Something unsettling. Her phone call just proved it. What was she up to that she didn't want him to know about? Was it related to the the trip she'd planned to Lake Alkali. That unnerved him to his core. What was she looking for up there?

Or, perhaps, what had she found?

* * *

Everything was in place. It was a safe bet that Nightcrawler would keep Rachel out of reach as long as possible. The fact that she had not returned to him when prompted worried him. He knew Xavier was some kind of high level telepath. Was he keeping Rachel from him?

There was nothing he could do on that front. That mutant petting zoo Xavier ran was far too well guarded. He would have to wait until he captured Nightcralwer to draw Rachel away from that place.

For now, he zipped up his bag for a quick trip home. Just sitting around this place waiting would drive him crazy. So, he'd put his time to good use. There were still a few minor things to attend to.

It was almost Christmas and he felt certain he wouldn't be seeing or hearing from Rachel and her pet till after the holidays. It made him a little sad. He'd been hoping they'd spend Christmas together in their new home.

Splitting his time between here and there had really worn him out. But it was worth it. He'd paid attention to every detail. He'd worked hard to make sure absolutely everything was perfect for her.

He was still irritated at himself for not snagging Nightcrawler when he'd had the chance last night, but that was spilt milk now. There was no good excuse. He had just been fascinated to see exactly what it was that this mutant could do in bed that kept Rachel entranced. She had admitted to him that she loved having sex with it, and he had to know why. Maybe it was that thing he did with his tail... It didn't matter. As soon as Nightcrawler sprang the trap waiting for him, they could pack up shop. He could take Rachel home and he could deprogram her.

He wasn't sure what he would do with Nightcrawler. He couldn't just kill him outright. That would accomplish nothing. As much as he fantasized about all the ways he could put that freak down, there was a lesson that it needed to be learned here. Nightcrawler had to understand its place in society. Mutants were subhuman, meant to serve mankind, not walk among them trying to pretend they were equals. That blue furred, pointed ear freak was little better than the chimps Rachel worked with as a researcher during her residency. At that, he got an idea.

_Oh...that's perfect...we can kill two birds with one stone..._

Whistling a medley of Christmas tunes, Ben Gammon turned off the lights and locked the door behind him.


	14. Games and Puzzles

Hope everyone enjoys! - please remember to R & R!

Special thanks to Webaholic for her help with Hank's dialogue and her incredible beta skills!!

* * *

Just as Kurt thought he might actually fall asleep himself with his wife's scent of cinnamon and vanilla surrounding him, there was a soft knock at the door. Heaving a sigh and maneuvering a sleeping Rachel off his shoulder and onto a pillow, Kurt got up and opened the door slightly. Rogue stood there, obviously embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm not disturbing you, am I?" A flush spread up over her cheeks.

For a moment, Kurt wondered if the entire school thought he and Rachel did nothing but have sex when they weren't in public. He shook his head. "Nien, Fraulien. How can I help you?"

"Logan wanted to see you...that is if your not...you know...busy..." Her blush crept all the way up to her hairline.

Chuckling, Kurt assured her that he was not 'busy.' Scripting a tiny white lie on a note pad by the bed, telling Rachel he'd been called to a meeting, he kissed her non responsive cheek and shut the door softly. Then, he followed the other resident Southern belle down the hallway.

* * *

Kurt frowned at the small white sphere in his hand. It lay in stark contrast to his indigo fingers as he examined it. "What is this? A ping pong ball?"

Logan nodded as they both leaned against the Bentley's opened hood. Stretching out his arm, he took it back. "A low tech way to foul up a high tech car." Kurt backed away as Logan unhooked the hood and let it close. "Found it in the gas tank."

Their voices bounced around the mansion's cavernous garage that was home to the many civilian vehicles the X men used when not on duty. Rachel's reassembled Bentley was taking center stage at the moment.

"Obviously, it was put there deliberately...", the German summarized.

Logan nodded and continued, "Since Rachel was going home from the airport, my bet would be our guy sabotaged the car while it was sitting in the airport parking lot. Just spring the gas cap door open, pop it in. No fuss, no muss."

Logan sat down on the tail gate of his old pick up truck, wiping his hands on a greasy rag as Kurt climbed on top of the Bentley's roof. "So long as the car's in stop and go traffic, the ball floats on top of the gas. But, once it's been going steady for a little bit - say, going through a tunnel - the ball gets sucked to the bottom of the tank and blocks any gas from getting through. Recipe for instant stall. Fouls up the fuel injectors so the car won't start back up." He waved away the needless question. "Yeah, I already reset 'em."

"I'm going to assume we're getting the surveillance videos of the parking lot?" Kurt ventured.

Logan nodded. "That would be a good assumption. Xavier is seein' to it."

"How would they have gotten the cap door open?" Kurt asked, almost to himself. He didn't see evidence of forced entry.

Logan frowned. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say someone had a key." Finished with the rag, he tossed it into the bed. The smell of engine oil and gasoline was strong on his hands and in his nose. It felt good to work with his hands again. In his opinion, Xavier's people depended too heavily on machines to do their work for them.

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "That doesn't sound like Rachel. She's not that trusting. I can't see her just giving someone a key to her car."

Logan ended with "You'd have to ask her."

There was a long silence between the two. It was no secret Logan held it against Rachel for the way things had ended four months ago. If Kurt was incapable of holding a grudge, Logan was an expert at it. Finally Kurt broke the quiet.

"I love her, Logan."

The older mutant shook his head. His voice held an incredulous attitude. "You must."

Jumping off the roof gracefully, Kurt settled next to the Canadian on the truck bed. "I do. And if there is any chance at all we can work things out, I have to try." His tail coiled around the way it always did when he was saying something very difficult. "I know you don't like her. But, I'm asking you, as a friend-"

"She walked out on ya, Elf." Logan glared at Kurt, "It got tough and she just packed up and blew outta here. Left you here holding the bag." He drew up his mouth in anger. "She ain't got what it takes to live this life." He motioned around him. "All this pretty crap we surround ourselves with. Fancy words, noble intentions." He lit up a cigar that would have been forbidden inside. "We're fighters, Elf. Plain and simple. At the end of the day, we're just a couple of foot soldiers fighting for our survival. She ain't got it in her to fight our fight."

"That's where you're wrong, mein Freund." Kurt shook his head. "She may not fight as we do. But she fights our war just the same. Or perhaps you've forgotten the Prenatal Testing program that died after her visit to the committee overseeing it?"

Logan was quiet as he took a drag. No one had ever able to find out what she'd said in that meeting. But, whatever it was, it had worked.

Kurt changed the subject. "The professor believes she is under some kind of telepathic influence..."

Logan's glare didn't lessen, but it was joined by a spark of interest. "What kind of influence?"

Kurt studied his hands as he answered. "I am not sure. But it's been going on for some time." He clenched his hands into fists as he remembered watching Rachel scream in agony on her apartment floor.

"The professor can block the telepathic abuse so long as she stays here." Kurt continued. "So we have to keep her here. And we have to do it without letting her know what is going on." He sighed. "In case there is a kill switch-"

"Ready to blow her brain to bits if she figures things out..." Logan finished. Some of his glare lightened as he gave his friend with a level stare. "Do you think she left because she was 'influenced'?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe." He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets, studying the floor. "But she's here now." He brought his gaze back up to meet Logan's.

"I'm not asking you to like her." He held Logan's eye with a fierceness that was rare for the cavalier mutant. "But I'm asking you, as a friend, to work out your differences with her."

Logan gave a disgruntled _humph_ as he blew smoke up in the air. He didn't like her...didn't trust her. But Kurt was his friend. And he'd do a lot for his friends.

* * *

Hank McCoy loved puzzles. Any kind of puzzle. From logic puzzles to math puzzles. Even the crossword puzzles in the newspapers were rarely left without Hank's handiwork on them. He stared down at an empty prescription bottle with Rachel's name on it. This was a puzzle.

His keen eye stared back up at the screen brazenly displaying the frontal lobes of Rachel's brain dotted by what appeared to be millions of teeny tiny spiders. He scratched his head as if they might have leapt off the scan in into his fur.

Nanobots. Very clever. Someone had infected Kurt's dear lady with literally untold numbers of tiny molecular sized machines that were prompting and punishing her. The question was: How? How was one infected with this magnitude of nanobots without knowing it? He felt the answer was in the palm of his hand, literally.

Dr. Bomenmang was a name unfamiliar to him. He'd assumed this doctor worked in the same practice as Dr. Johnson, the stress expert Hank had referred Rachel to. Frankly, it had been such a harrowing time, he'd never even bothered to question it. But, now he stared down the bottle dwarfed in his large hand and frowned.

He also frowned at the numerous other scans he'd taken of Rachel. In particular, a scan of her reproductive cavity. His frown was more sad than disconcerted. He thought about the grief Gracie's death had brought on his two friends. And of the incredibly foolish things grief can make a person do.

He chuckled despite himself. There was a time when he had called Rachel Donivan a lot of thing – friend was not one of them.

In his former role as head of Mutant Affairs, Hank suspected several companies of conducting illegal experiments on mutants. Donivan Enterprises was in the top five. The kind of advances they made in genetic research couldn't be done in a petri dish.

He'd seen the reports of the extremely generous contributions Donivan Enterprises made to mutant charities. He'd also heard the disturbing rumors about the halfway houses set up using Donivan's money. Rumors of humans and mutants alike who took refuge in those places and were never heard from again. But given the transient, unreliable nature of the witnesses, getting any kind of concrete evidence on the matter was simply impossible.

Rachel Donivan had been his biggest opponent in his investigation. She stood up for her father's company with a zealous kind of fire one usually reserved for religious wars. She had fought Hank at every turn as if she'd made it her personal crusade to keep him out of Donivan Enterprises and uphold her father's reputation.

To Hank's relief, he'd been able to determine that _her_ research had been completely mutant free. 'Gene Targeting to Prevent Accumulation of Deleterious Genetic Mutation Due to Lacking Biodiversity in Endangered Primates' It was a mouthful to say, but there was no sinister underbelly to it. Rachel, honestly, was trying to use her expertise to do some good in the world. But, by the time he drew that conclusion, too much had been said between them, too many battle lines had been drawn.

In fact, there were so many hard feelings, it wasn't until she had been here several weeks that she'd even sit down and share a cup of coffee with him. And a month longer to admit that she'd been wrong. That woman could hold a grudge almost as well as Logan could.

Turning his mind back to his work, he grimly studied the lining on her uterine wall again. Triple checking himself. He was suddenly glad for doctor/patient confidentiality as he pressed a button and the scan disappeared. If Kurt found out about this, it would be from Rachel, not him.

Speaking of which, he turned to see Kurt making his way into lab. "Well...speak of the devil.." Hank grinned.

"Very funny..." Kurt smirked, taking a seat on a bench. "Find out anything?"

_Too much_ Hank thought ruefully. "Yes. We know the what and the how, just not the who or the why." He pointed to the remaining time lapse scan showing Rachel's brain alive with crawling minuscule spots. "Those are nanobots."

"Nanobots?" Kurt repeated, disbelieving. "I thought nanobot technology was theoretical."

"They're not terribly sophisticated." He enlarged the scan and isolated a single bot, bringing to up to a viewable size. "They are similar to receivers. When they get a signal from another source, they perform a predetermined function, such as stimulating Rachel's pleasure/pain center – resulting in the horrific migraines she's been having."

Kurt was angry. Hank didn't have to be clairvoyant to know that. All he had to do was watch Kurt's tail which was more or less a barometer of his emotions. Right now, it was coiled around the cross bars of his bench trying to bend the metal with the intensity of his fury.

"The good news is that since these are fairly benign, in and of themselves, it should be a simple matter to disable them." Hank stared at Kurt. "And, since these little bots are of a basically uncomplicated design, there probably isn't a kill switch...though we should wait until they've all died off before we enlighten your wife."

"And the bad news?" His tail had not released the bars he was trying to strangle.

Hank took off his glasses, suddenly aware he'd been at this for hours. "It doesn't put us any closer to finding who put them there or why." He picked up the prescription bottle Rachel had left behind four months previous. "Did you ever meet this Dr. Bomenmang?"

Kurt shrugged, "A few times." He remembered an older gentleman who seemed to sincerely want to help Rachel through her loss. Through their loss. "Why?"

Working his mouth into a contrite twist Hank thought for a moment. "The thing that really bothers me is that there is such a multitude of these things loose on her brain. And their functional life span only seems to be a few days...." He tapped the bottle on the counter. "So, how are they being replaced so frequently without Rachel realizing it?"

Kurt took the prescription bottle, studied it for a moment, then handed it back to Hank. "Are you suggesting that the good Doktor might have something to do with this?"

"I'd never heard of him before. Rachel said he was on call for Dr. Johnson on the day of her appointment with him. He had her come to his personal office after the initial visit-" He handed the most damning evidence against Dr. Bomenmang. The directions read:

"Take 1-2 pills as needed for pain"

The wheels turned in the clever German's mind. "So...Rachel's head hurts...she takes these pills, which contain the nanobots, putting them in her bloodstream...the nanobots find their way to her brain...pain goes away...but now there are more nanobots prompting more pain...more pain - more pills...delivering more nanobots-"

"Till her brain looks like this." Hank finished, pointed at the scan of Rachel's frontal lobes again.

"How soon till they can be disabled?" Kurt felt a little nauseous as he stared at the scan. Unconsciously, he scratched his neck.

"Already working on it." Hank pulled up the nanobot image. "They work on a very narrow band width. Disabled, they'll float harmlessly in her head till they all die out in a matter of days. Over time, her body should be able eliminate them from her system."

"What are you waiting for?" Kurt asked, shaking his head, a slight bit irritated.

"Your permission. Since she can't be trusted to make that decision herself, it's your call as her spouse." Hank smiled.

"Do it." Kurt demanded, clenching his fist.

Hank nodded and began the prep work. "You might want to bring her back down here in a few days. I'll need to run a comparison scan and make sure they've all ceased functioning."

Kurt assured him that he'd bring her back down as soon as Hank was ready for her. He started to leave as he sensed Hank hesitate.

"What?"

For a moment, he thought Hank wasn't going to answer when the huge mutant turned to him. "How are you and Rachel doing?" The question seemed oddly ambiguous and Kurt wasn't sure how to answer.

"How are we doing...in what way?" he ventured carefully.

Hank cleared his throat as if embarrassed. "I know it's none of my business...but, have the two of you been...intimate recently?"

Kurt shook his head. _Not you too, Hank..._ "We have." No sense being coy. He might have a very good explanation for needing to know.

"How recently?" he probed.

Kurt frowned, wondering where this was going. "Last night...this morning." He would have flushed, if not for the worry that was crawling up his spine.

"Before then?" Hank was obviously troubled as he ruffed up his hair.

Kurt's frown deepened as his eyes narrowed. "Not since Gracie's death..." He answered slowly. "Why?"

Hank regretted even asking as he had to shake his head. "Nothing, Kurt."

"Don't 'nothing' me, mein Freund." Kurt stood up, standing off with the much larger mutant. "Those are not questions one asks out of idle curiosity."

When Hank still would not reply, Kurt laid his hand on his shoulder. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You are a friend and I respect your insight very much." If he suspected something to be wrong with Rachel, he wanted to know.

Hank grimaced. "Kurt, I consider you a friend, also. But, Rachel is my patient. And, there are some things I can not tell you without her direct permission."

"Her direct permission??" Kurt stepped back. "If something is wrong with my wife, don't I have a right to know?" He brushed his hair back from his forehead in frustration as Hank refused to divulge his knowledge. "Verdammst Du, Hank!" he cursed. "You practically said I HAD to give permission to have those nanobots disabled. What are you keeping from me??"

"I'm sorry, Kurt." And Hank truly was. "If ethical considerations allowed me to inform you, I assuredly would do so with all haste. But my hands are tied."

"So - you're not going to tell me what's wrong?" One would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to see how outraged Kurt was. Perhaps the angriest Hank had ever seen him.

"No." Hank shook his head resolutely.

Kurt turned and left without another word. Hank slumped his massive shoulders as he sat down in his office chair. He shouldn't have said _anything_.

Instead of dwelling on what he should or shouldn't have done, he looked at prescription bottle still in his hand. Grabbing a notepad and pen, he scribbled the name down and stared at it for a long moment. Then, almost entranced, he began moving the letters around.


	15. Ghosts

Kurt left the lab and descended on the Danger Room to vent his wrath in an environment that was suitably equipped to handle it. Swinging, swooping, dodging through one program after another he found himself becoming more aggressive and angrier with each passing enemy. When he found himself strangling a pair of generic foes – one with his hands, the other with his tail, he stopped. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realized he was enjoying this too much. He ended the program and climbed to the ceiling, trying to let the sudden quiet of the large training room settle him. But his mind raged.

It hadn't been enough for Stryker and his men to force him to fight; to become a killer. Through torture and serum, they forced him to _enjoy_ it. Fights to the death were not uncommon in the gladiator-like combat he and fellow mutants were force to participate in. It was a way to weed out the weaker candidates. Kurt's natural athletic abilities and years of gymnastic training gave him a distinct edge over the competition.

Kurt had more reason than most to keep winning at these sadistic games they played. It was not just to save his own furry hide. Winning bets for the guards was the only leverage he'd had to keep them away from his family.

_Make this round a good one and we won't take turns raping that freak baby out of your pretty wife. _

So Kurt made sure he kept the guards entertained so Rachel wouldn't have to.

He was certain he'd been forgiven for the actual deaths of those he'd killed in the course of his training. What other choice was there? It had simply been a matter of survival for his family.

Kurt wanted to believe it was solely the serum and the torture that had twisted his mind. But, during the shockingly brief period he'd been kept prisoner, he began to look forward to the adrenaline rush the fights gave him. The feeling of being at the top of the food chain, as it were, in that demented little Hell Stryker created. A perverse feeling of pride watching a guard cheer as he won yet another bet for him. Even as he recited his prayers to keep his sanity, he felt it slipping away as he grunted in satisfaction at the sharp sound the vertebrae made when he snapped an opponent's neck.

He could still remember that feeling of exhilaration, like a drug in his veins. And, as the lonely hours of the night dragged by, when he laid in bed alone...he missed it. That was what put Nightcrawler on his knees begging God for forgiveness in the face of his violent desires.

The only other person on Earth who knew his sins was an anonymous priest at St. Michael's Church in Brooklyn. No one else. Not Xavier, or Logan, or Ororo. Not Rachel.

Hanging upside down, his crucifix fell out of his uniform and dangled before him. He really needed to put that on a longer chain to keep it tucked in deeper. He held it and rubbed his thumb across the engraved figure. He put one set of dark thoughts out of his mind as equally torturous ones entered. Gracie had 'given' him that crucifix as his very first Father's Day present. Maybe his very last.

Even if she stayed, even if the two of them were able to move past the nightmare of Gracie's death, he wondered if Rachel would ever entertain the thought of having another child. Then he remembered that look of fear in her eyes last night and closed his own eyes in resignation. Gracie would be his only child.

Oh, he was certain he could conjole Rachel into having another baby. But he wouldn't do that to her. If she didn't have it in her heart, he wouldn't try to force it there. He got to hold his beautiful daughter for four wonderful months. It was much more than he thought he'd ever get while imprisoned at Alkali. As much as it hurt, he'd found a small peace in what he'd had, rather than let himself be broken over what he'd lost. But, at times, it was an incredibly small consolation.

Opening his luminescent eyes again he turned loose of the ceiling and flipped gracefully to the floor. As his feet made soft sounds against the metallic floor, his mind turned to worry. What had Hank discovered that he wouldn't divulge? As he showered in the empty locker room stalls, steam rose in misty clouds and his mind turned over one terrifying possibility after another. But, in the end, he could only satiate his worry with more prayer.

He would ask Rachel. She would tell him what was wrong. Or if she didn't know, they'd go to Hank together. If it were life threatening, he was sure the conscientious doctor would have already had his wife back down in the lab.

Then why did it bother him so?

Showered and wearing a fresh uniform, Kurt also donned a better attitude as made his way back to his room to wake Rachel for dinner. His delightful grin was back in place as he lightly treaded up the hallway, his tail swishing behind him like a happy metronome. But it went dead as he opened the door on an empty room.

* * *

Rachel sat at the large desk in her office, going over her speech for the quarterly financial staff meeting one more time. She hated these things. She looked around the plush office and realized she hated every single thing about this place. The ceiling to floor windows displayed the New York skyline for her pleasure. She caught her reflection in the glass and saw a woman she didn't even recognize.

She felt like a pawn in her own game.

She clenched her fists. The mutant testing bill had to be stopped. Not referred back to a committee or put on the back burner like the Mutant Registration Act. It had to be **stopped**. She wished she could have said it was for the good of mutants everywhere; that she was fighting for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. But the truth was she was fighting for sake of her baby. Not Gracie, but the nameless child she'd been carrying the day she ran away from home.

She hadn't told Kurt. She hadn't told anyone. In her defense, she hadn't known she was eight weeks pregnant when she walked out on its father. But at twelve weeks, she knew. She knew she was with child. Kurt's child. A mutant child.

The pregnancy test had just been a prefunctionary action. As she sat in her fine leather office chair, she remembered sitting on the side of the garden tub in her hotel suite staring at the test strip, crying bitter tears. Wishing that just once she'd be able to take one of those dammed tests and be happy about the result.

When she learned of it, Rachel attacked the bill with a zealous fire born of her raging hormones. She meticulously studied the attempts by respected leaders in the mutant and human communities to persuade the panel against this course of action. She watched them all fail.

When it came her turn, the humans who sat at the table during her panel board meeting held her in contempt. She was a spoiled rich girl picking up the mutant banner out of boredom. By the time she was done with them, she was a spoiled rich girl who spoke with a sweet southern drawl and carried a stick big enough to bludgeon them all to death.

* * *

Kurt snatched up a note off the nightstand, desperately hoping she was just out on a jaunt somewhere. Maybe watching movies with the kids in the Rec Room. Or in the lab with Hank. Anywhere. Just let her be in the house.

He felt panic fire through him as the smooth, curvy lines advised him that his beloved wife had business to tend to and she would be back as soon as she could. Not to worry, if it got too late she'd spend the night at her apartment and come back first thing in the morning.

_Love you, Rachel_

Balling the note up in his trifingered hand, Kurt disappeared in a burst of smoke.

* * *

She only had two things in her arsenal at the time. A detailed head count of all those who'd funded or directly supported the Weapon X program at Alkali Base and Erik Lehnsherr's contact number. The list was encrypted and Magneto had only been given one name off the list.

One name. One sacrifice. One murder to ensure the safety of her child. It had seemed a fair trade at the time.

Senator Sander's death was ruled accidental. A horrible tragedy. But it was no accident. It was an execution. Everyone at that table knew it.

Despite herself, Rachel got a heady feeling of power as she watched the panel members read her offer, turn deathly pale or angry red, and pass it down. Her offer couldn't be simpler. Kill the testing bill and everyone on that list got to live. Refuse her, try to trick her, dissuade her, or simply irk her and she'd turn the encryption code over to the Brotherhood.

She had expected Erik to pressure her for the code, even after they'd agreed to just one name. He was a persuasive devil. But, she was used to smooth talk and sweet lies. She'd earned both his ire and his respect that day. She knew there would be a price to pay for her defiance. But as long as she was pregnant with a mutant child, she felt reasonably safe from retribution. Kurt was safe within the folds of the X-men. There was no one else he could use to get to her. She was completely unprepared for the headlines two days later.

"Deceased Senator's Family Slain in Mutant Rampage"

All of them. From Sander's lovely wife of 22 years to his nine year old son. Two cousins who had been visiting from out of town. Seven people in all. And that was just the beginning. Mutant hate groups sprung into action plowing into sects of mutants, flexing their muscle to get information. Mutant terrorist groups retaliated with bombs and random strikes of violence. The vortex reached fever pitch until a dark stalemate was reached with Xavier's people trying to hold the balance.

And during all this, while the two sides killed each other over Rachel's desperate attempt to secure a future for her baby, it all became for naught.

Two weeks after the panel meeting, Rachel miscarried.

* * *

Scott was putting away his bike as a foul smelling 'bamf' announced he was in the presence of the school's resident teleporter. He turned his head to see Kurt staring at the empty spot where Rachel's car had been sitting an hour ago.

"I met her on the highway," he offered, remembering a gorgeous brunette waving at him as he passed. "She was headed towards the city."

"How long ago?" Kurt didn't look at him; his stare bore holes into the spot where a burgundy Bentley should have been.

"About an hour ago." Scott shrugged, laying his helmet on the back of his bike. "Why? Something wrong?"

He didn't get an answer. As quickly as he'd appeared, Kurt Wagner vanished in another cloud of smoke.

* * *

Clearing her thoughts and her desk, she gathered her paperwork and stuffed it a briefcase. What she would give to be able to trade all this for a veterinarian gig. She fumbled with the locking clasp of the bag as her fingers trembled uncontrollably.

"It would suit you better."

With a startled jump, Rachel dropped the case. Papers scattered onto the clear plastic mat protecting the chair from the carpet.

Looking up, she felt her legs go out from under her as Joe Donivan smiled at her from his vantage point. He was sitting in one of the slightly less impressive office chairs on the other side of the massive desk.

"J-Joe.."she stuttered in disbelief, falling into the chair that was serendipitously placed behind her. "What...how...I thought you..." Her mind started spinning and she felt she was in serious danger of fainting.

"You know, I never got to see my desk from this side," he commented, still smiling. "You look surprised to see me." There was a twinkle in his eye.

"You...you-I saw the car..." Tears sprang to her eyes. "Uncle Joe!" She jumped up and tore around the desk to embrace her childhood hero. "I thought you were dead!!"

"I am dead, baby." His voice was mild, but firm. It stopped the ecstatic, dark haired woman in her tracks.

"But..." She was going crazy. That was it. She had finally thrown out the oar and was rushing over the edge in a leaky barrel.

"Where do you think you go when you die?" Joe chuckled and looked at her with that charming expression that had always gotten him what he wanted. "What do you think happens to your soul?"

"I thought your soul didn't have to keep going to work!" she retorted, angry. Angry that for a second she thought he had miraculously survived and had come to rescue her. Rescue her from Donivan Enterprises. Rescue her from herself.

Joe stood up and stretched. "Same smart mouth." He laughed shaking his head. "It's all right. I know where you get it." He pointed to his own lips.

"Okay." Rachel followed the bread crumbs in front of her. "If you're a ghost, spirit, angel...whatever...why are you here?" It was a reasonable question to ask of the dead.

"I'm here to try and help you." He walked over to the window beside her and stared out. Rachel was close enough to touch him. "If you'll let me."

"Help me do what?"

Joe turned back to her and folded his arms over his chest. "Follow your heart, baby." Before she could speak he continued. "You've got a good heart, but a _stupid_ brain."

"What are you-"

"I'm saying, you are risking everything you care about," he motioned to the wedding ring that dangled from her neck, "to gain something you don't even want!" he swung a hand to the expansive office. He stopped and looked her dead in the eye. "How smart is that?"

Rachel felt her face flush with anger. "What do you want me to do??" She started at him, causing him to back up. "You went off and got yourself killed! I'm all that's left!!"

"Left of what? The proud Donivan line?" He chuckled. "Sound just like your old man." He shook his head again, then stared over the city. After a moment he turned back to her. "Remember when your dad was pressuring you to get an MBA? You came to me for advice."

Rachel nodded. She'd hated the very idea of pursuing a business degree. "You told me to..." She stopped for moment. "You told me to follow my heart."

"You are about to get an opportunity very few in your position do." He was close enough to touch. Rachel imagined she could smell the faint scent of cologne waft towards her. "A chance to start over. To put this life behind you and try again. You're about to get a second chance."

Rachel shook her head. "I...I don't understand." Her brow creased in confusion.

"Don't listen to your head. Your head is full of lies and illusions. Follow your heart, Baby. It'll get you where you need to be." He looked as if he might take her up in a great bear hug as he'd done some many times before. Instead he looked around, as if to make sure they were alone.

"Rachel, listen to me." His voice was hushed and dark. "There is going to come a time when you are going to have to _depend _on what you feel in your heart. Your life and Kurt's life will depend on it. Every logical part of your brain is going to scream that you are crazy, but you've GOT to listen to what your heart's telling you and follow it." He met her eyes and held them, with an intensity that carried her back twenty years. "Do you understand?"

Rachel nodded vaguely, feeling more like a frightened seven year old than a grown woman. That was the same tone he'd used the day her mother died.

His traumatized niece was found sitting on the sidewalk while her mother was pinned under the twisted wreckage that had been their car several yards away. Rachel hadn't gotten a scratch on her. It was a miracle they'd all said. Rachel tried to tell them that it was the angel. The angel had taken her away to be safe. But no one would listen to her. Only Joe stopped long enough to hear her words.

_Don't tell anyone else about your angel, Baby. Do you understand?_

"Do you understand?" Joe repeated, bringing Rachel back to the present.

"I'm not sure." She started, still feeling as small and helpless as she had the day she'd lost her mother. But, Joe's intense stare strengthened her. "Yes, I understand." She nodded, firmly.

"Good girl." He nodded satisfied and turned away. Rachel knew he was leaving.

"Joe, wait!" She cried out suddenly, making him turn back. "Where..." She bit her lip and gathered her courage. "Where is Gracie? Is...is she all right?" A tear slid down her face at the hurt that name caused in her throat.

Joe shook his head. "She's not with us, Rachel."

"Us? Where-" Rachel couldn't let him go without knowing her daughter was safe and at peace.

"Your angel has her."

An imagined sound startled Rachel and she turned her head for a second. When she looked back, Joe was gone.


	16. Deals and Distractions

Thanks again to Webaholic for her editing skills and suggestions!!

Yzak - Holy crap indeed! Hurried this as fast as I could. Hope you enjoy!

Silverangel83 - Wow - you're going to keep me on my toes aren't you? Good! This should answer a couple of your questions, but may raise a few more. ;-)

* * *

Rachel was on her knees gathering up the scattered paperwork under her desk. She was shaking. Had she _really_ just had a conversation with her dead uncle? Or did she have a couple of screws coming loose?

Probably both.

She stopped for a moment, sliding her wedding ring along its golden chain contemplating what she'd been told. Joe said she was about to get a second chance. Second chance at what, exactly?

She stopped and took a long hard look at the band. Where was her heart leading her? She smiled at the ring in her loose grasp. At least that question was easy to answer.

Twenty years apart hadn't lessened her love for her Blue. As children, petty squabbles aside, he was her best friend. He'd always known what she needed from him. When Gracie died, he'd_ tried _to give that to her, but she'd refused him. Then she'd deserted him like a coward. It was a miracle that he would even consider taking her back.

_You are risking everything you care about to gain something you don't even want._

She picked up a plain white envelope out of the floor. Good old Danny. Faithful as a hound dog. He'd stopped by earlier and left it on her just like she'd asked him to on the phone earlier that afternoon. Standing up, the pretty exec leaned against her desk; the envelope was heavy in her hand. It was time to come clean and lay her cards on the table. She didn't want to do this alone anymore. In fact, she didn't want to do this at all anymore.

"I don't belong here." She mumbled to herself as she took in the lush office. Trembling hands aside, she belonged in a lab, or tending to injured animals...or rocking babies. She wondered if she'd ever get her hands to hold a beaker or an IV without shaking. Or pass a baby stroller on the street without seeing a black Escalade exploding into an inferno.

Turning the envelope over in her slender hands, Rachel thought back to that day twenty years ago when she'd miraculously survived the car wreck that killed her mother. Her angel. Months of therapy had convinced seven year old Rachel that she'd imagined him. The years had pushed him to the very back of her mind. Now Joe's words started to dredge him up from the depths of her memory.

_Your angel has her. _A normal person would take comfort in the thought that their child was in the company of divine guardians. But Rachel knew Joe's words were not meant to be a comfort. They were a warning.

She was completely lost in thought when she was startled by a loud thump on the window. She stifled a shriek as she looked up to see a pair of glowing eyes and two sets of dexterous limbs clinging to the outside of the glass. In her sudden fright, she fell backwards over the chair and crashed onto the floor. Landing with a 'THUMP', Rachel lay flat on her back, her long legs tangled in the chair's arms. She struggled to catch her breath as a long line of decidedly unladylike curses spewed out of her..

"DAMN IT, Kurt!!" She finished, glaring at his face above her as she laid on the carpeted floor. She'd have strangled him if she could've managed it from her position. "Can't you just knock on the door like a normal person?!" she hissed as he pulled the chair away.

"Not when you look like I do." Kurt smiled devilishly, but inside he was so relieved to find her safe, he had to fight to keep his smile from becoming a goofy grin. "Are you all right? Inherit clumsiness aside, that is." His eyes danced as he teased her.

"Oh, shut it and help me get up!" She spat sticking a hand up in the air, wriggling its digits demandingly.

The mutant gallantly took her hand and eased her back onto her feet.

She leaned against the desk and rubbed a hip that was bound to be bruised in the morning. "What are you doing here??"

"I...I was worried about you." He answered, suddenly aware he didn't really have a good excuse for following her. Her head was full of mind controlling nanobots, but he couldn't tell her _that _without risking her head exploding. So, he shrugged and looked embarrassed. "I was afraid you might have another headache."

Rachel shook her head and sighed disapprovingly, but her eyes softened. "Same old Blue." she smiled. Leaning in, she kissed his cheek.

Kurt pressed his lips against her, returning her kiss. The two smiled and touched foreheads for a moment, then slid their arms around each other in relaxed comfort, glad for each other's company again. She was about to speak when a flirtatious tail slipped under her shirt.

"Hey!" She started, scolding the tail. "Put a leash on that thing!"

"Sorry." It was hard to tell if he was sincere or not. "My tail has a mind of its own sometimes." He grinned, exposing his canines in campy humor as his eyebrows waggled. "You know," he pulled her even closer, "you're here, I'm here...we're all alone..." He was being his usual mischievous self, but there was an undertone in his voice that told her he wasn't completely kidding.

Rachel was about to speak when her office door opened. Startled, she wheeled around to see Tracy enter carrying more precious paperwork and a brightly wrapped present. Rachel looked this way and that but Kurt had vanished. But no puff of smoke. Where'd he go??

"My! People come and go so quickly here!" she muttered. First Joe, now Kurt.

"What?" Tracy perched her glasses higher on her nose. She was a pretty woman with her auburn hair and bright green eyes. She might have been as attractive as Rachel if she didn't have that 'don't mess with me' attitude. She looked as if she was at war with the world – all the time.

"You know – 'My, people come and-' ...Wizard of Oz?" Rachel's eyebrows raised up as she tried to explain, pantomiming a little dog in her arms to Tracy's deadpan expression. "Never mind." She sighed, giving up. "What are you still doing here?"

"They just emailed the Hong Kong itinerary." She hefted the stack of papers she'd just printed. "What were you looking for?" she asked, disinterested, as she scanned her paperwork once more.

"I-um..." Just then she caught a glimpse of a spaded tail waving from the knee hole of her desk. "Nothing." She pointed at the present Tracy set on the desk. "What's that?"

"This is the Christmas present you ordered." She answered, setting it down. "R & D is NOT happy with you at the moment." she warned, pointing at the small green foil wrapped present with a festive red bow.

"Yeah, well Research and Development can kiss my-" Rachel stopped suddenly as her husband yanked her pants leg in reprimand. Instead of finishing, she just gave her assistant a tight lipped smile and a raised brow. "I'm guessing you want to go over that agenda now, don't you?" There was a defiant reluctance in her voice.

Tracy merely nodded and launched into her overview of the meeting details. It was hard to believe that someone could talk so fast and so long without taking a breath.

Twenty-four hours ago, this conference was one of the most important things in Rachel's sphere of responsibility. Now it was just an obstacle between her and what she really wanted. Joe's words resounded in her mind as she tried not to ignore Tracy completely.

As Tracy talked on and on, Rachel shifted a little at the feel of a soft velvet rope winding around her ankle. From the time he was a child, a bored Kurt was bound to cause trouble.

The dark haired Romani tightened her lips at the invasion of Kurt's tail as the tip slipped under the cuff of her pants leg. Determined to ignore it, she studied the paperwork being handed to her with an intensity that could start a fire. She stiffened as the spade started working its way up her pants leg and massaging her calf.

"Is something wrong?" Tracy stopped, surprised and irked at being interrupted..

"No." Rachel answered, almost too quickly. "I just think we may want to get the building sprayed for _pests_." She emphasized that last word as the prehensile appendage slid further up her pants leg and tickled the sensitive skin behind her knee. It continued upward, causing her to jerk involuntarily.

The PA frowned as Rachel hooked one leg around the other tightly. What was wrong with her boss? Tracy jumped as she watched Rachel suddenly slapped at her thigh.

"Rachel??"

"Lint." Rachel hissed in explanation as she smacked her leg several more times. Finally, satisfied with her efforts, she returned to the paperwork at hand.

The next few minutes went by undisturbed. At least until Rachel blanched over the food to be served at the main banquet.

"No. Absolutely not." Rachel shook her head, pointing at a particularly 'exotic' culinary masterpiece. "Does that say '_scorpions_'?!"

"It is a delicacy in China." Tracy insisted, defending the banquet menu.

With a silent chuckle, Kurt's warm meandrous tail began its assault anew. Defiantly, it struck a bold path back up his Leibe's pants leg. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp from somewhere above his head.

"Know what else is a delicacy?" Rachel spat, seeming to be talking to the desk rather than to her assistant. "Monkey tails!"

"Mo-monkey tails?" Tracy repeated, bewildered at her boss's behavior. She followed Rachel's eyes to the desk top.

"Yes, only you don't eat them. You cut them off and wear 'em as belts!" Now she was _definitely_ talking to the desk. Her alarmed assistant backed up a little.

Tracy started to speak again as a paper slid off Rachel's side of the smooth hardwood desk. "Hold that thought." Rachel ordered, putting her finger up. "I'll be right back." And she disappeared behind the huge piece of furniture.

The offending tail recoiled as Rachel bent down and stared at the luminescent golden orbs lurking in the desk's darkened knee hole. Rachel glared at the Cheshire cat with his impossibly white toothed grin and the scowl on her face matched the stiff finger she pointed at Kurt in silent warning. He stared back at her with large, innocent eyes as his deviant tail curled up behind him.

_What?_ He shrugged with his hands open and palms up.

Rachel jabbed her fingers in a scissoring motion with a stern look of admonishment as she stood back up.

For almost a full minute, Rachel seemed to be over whatever kind of conniption she'd been having. Tracy gave a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. She rolled her eyes as Rachel's face tightened up, her jaw clenched, grabbing hold of her calf with both hands.

"Charlie horse." Rachel groaned, wrestling with her leg.

Tracy physically jumped back with a start as Rachel quickly stomped the floor with her foot. A stifled yelp from under the desk almost caused the green eyed PA to drop her papers as Rachel smiled in strange satisfaction.

"What is it?" Rachel's eyes were wide with curiosity at what Tracy imagined she heard. The assistant shook her head. Things certainly weren't this strange when Joe Donivan had been running the show. She handed the dark haired woman the flight itinerary.

Finished with her duties, Tracy took her leave. She wished Rachel a 'Merry Christmas', almost as an after thought. Rachel mumbled a response, already leaning back under the desk.

The gypsy and the devil stared at each other for a moment. But no matter how angry his wife seemed to be, it did nothing to deflate Kurt's mood.

"Care to join me? There's lots of room." The impish blue trickster grinned from his hiding place. He slid over and patted the floor next to him.

"What are you, four years old??" she scolded ordering him out into the open. But her glare changed to mild disapproval, then melted away altogether as he grinned at her. It was impossible for her to stay mad at her Blue for long.

"You should be ashamed of yourself." she admonished, half heartedly.

"It's not my fault. I already told you, this thing has a mind of its own, sometimes." he insisted, holding his tail as it wriggled in his grasp. "I swear I can't do a thing with it."

"That's not true." Rachel grinned, suggestively. She put herself back in his arms. "Blue?"

"Yes, Leibe." He answered, resting his cheek on top of her head. A happy smile played on his features.

"Let's go home."

_Home. _Kurt's elated heart swelled. He backed up and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

* * *

27 lay curled up in the corner of her cell, silently crying in fear and agony. She'd lost so much blood she was afraid she'd pass out and the cramps were so painful she'd already wretched everything in her stomach. When they found out she'd lost this thing they'd put in her, she'd end up being one of those girls who disappeared. Covering her face, she choked back a sob. She didn't want to die. Not like this.

It didn't take long for the guards to notice the crimson pool she was laying in and yank her onto a gurney. Harsh, sterile ceilings flew over her as she was rushed into surgery. As the anesthesia was applied, she began to fade away. All the while she kept churning up memories of home and her life before. Trying desperately to hold onto to who she had once been.

_My name is Maggie. I live in...in Florida. My favorite food is pizza. I have a fish..._

* * *

"Not my problem." Ben leaned back in his comfortable chair, unconcerned at the ire of his companion.

"We need an embryo, not a _fetus_." Dr. Cornelius looked over his desk and glared. "What you gave us was too old to transplant." They had tried, but the shock of transplant had killed the fetus within days of the procedure. It had been foolish to try. But, none of their in vitro fertilizations had taken hold. For whatever reason, this particular mutant's reproductive DNA strands were highly unstable and incompatible with every single female mutant it had been matched with to date.

But it seemed to have little trouble impregnating the human, Rachel Donivan. Was it any human, or just Rachel in particular? Abraham suddenly wished they'd spent a little more time studying her instead of just focusing on the prenatal mutant she'd carried while interned at Alkali.

The idea of breeding mutants had been a dream of Cornelius' for years. Why make do with what fate dealt you when you could tailor make mutants to your precise needs? With their technology, his team could take a mutant at birth and turn it into an adult operative in less than a year. X108 had become an incredibly effective tool in less than eight weeks. Cornelius dreamed of what he could do with its offspring in a year's time!

Using human females as surrogates had greatly increased their productivity. Now, female operatives no longer had to be out of commission due to pregnancy and survival rates of mutant offspring were far higher with living hosts than they had been with mechanical incubators.

Ben stretched his handsome frame and stood up. Idly, he scratched at the healing scar on his chest. "Still not my problem, Abe." He shrugged, eager to get going. "You needed a spawn from X108 and that's what you got. Not my fault you couldn't keep it alive."

"If we were to get a stable, healthy embryo," the doctor offered enticingly, trying a different tactic. "The compensation would be...substantial." He smiled as Ben Gammon's blue eyes twinkled a little.

"How substantial?"

_Gottcha._ "We want to replicate this mutant, Mr. Gammon. The embryo must be young enough that we can suppress the maternal DNA – especially since the mother is human."

_Time to put on the thumbs screws._ "We have contemplated bringing her here to provide the embryo we want." the doctor watched Ben's eyes turn dark and angry. "But, I don't think you want her in a place like this again, do you?"

The tall blond stiffened up, then after a few moments, he shrugged. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Okey! You nkow the drill - please R & R. Let me know what you're thinking - Thanks!


	17. Going Back Home

Yzak - Glad you liked it!! Hope you find this one is just as entertaining!

Nacht - Interesting, huh? Interesting is good! :-)

Webby - Glad you approve! Yes, I am sure Rachel felt like she was caught in some kind of crazy sitcom. Be-elfed indeed! What's that present she's got? have to wait and see!

Silverangel - Glad you've been eagerly awaiting the next chapter. Hope it was worth the wait. :-D

* * *

The image inducer proved to be unnecessary as the two made their way to the garage. The entire place was abandoned for the Christmas holiday as the Kurt and Rachel made their way to her Bentley hand in hand. Rachel put her head on his shoulder and decided this was _much_ better than hopping a plane to China.

Still she felt a stone in the pit of her stomach when she contemplated telling him about the congressional panel, about Senator Sanders, about her miscarriage...about Alkali. Even the gift in her briefcase made her nervous. Shaking her head slightly, Rachel forced those thoughts from her mind for the moment. _Let us have Christmas,_ she prayed. _Just let us have Christmas before everything falls apart._

"I know it's going in the wrong direction, but I really need to go back to get my purse and laptop." Rachel implored as Kurt steered her Bentley onto the street. "I still have some work to catch up on and my medicine is in my purse."

The German tensed at the mention of her 'medication.' He didn't like the idea of her being within swallowing distance of the deceivingly innocent white pills that were imprisoning her. _Act natural_, he ordered himself as he nodded.

"Of course. And maybe you would like to get some more of your things?" He tried to stay as nonchalant as he could. "We did leave in a bit of a hurry this morning." He forced his tone to stay light as he squeezed her hand.

Rachel started to respond that she had enough clothes to get through Christmas, then stopped as she realized what he was really asking. He didn't ask if she wanted to get her clothes. He asked if she wanted to get her _things_. She knew him well enough to know that, in his own round about way, he was asking her to come back home. She felt ecstatic and terrified at the same time.

"Well, I suppose I might need a few more of my things," she answered carefully.

* * *

Back at her apartment, Rachel quickly packed her bag, stuffing the leather satchel with her toiletries and a few personal items. Discreetly, she packed the opened box of contraceptives in the zippered side pocket. Then she opened the nightstand and pulled out two items she couldn't bear putting in a storage box. One was a sleek picture frame. Displayed in it was a snapshot Jemaine had taken about a month after Kurt and Rachel started dating. The dark hair woman remembered the day fondly. A hot and muggy day had sent a group of them to a secluded swimming hole where even Kurt could enjoy himself without much fear of discovery. She chuckled, remembering a sport she could finally beat her super strong, super agile, super human husband at. Swimming. It wasn't that he couldn't swim. He was an excellent swimmer – but she was better.

In the photo Rachel's golden skin radiated against her tiny white bikini. She was sitting in between her Blue's legs, her forearms resting on his knees as he sat in his typical crouch. Kurt was curled up against her back looking over her shoulder. His tail looped around her midsection possessively as both laughed at some forgotten joke as Jemaine snapped the picture.

Rachel was lost in that happy memory when Kurt startled her back to the present. "What do you have there?"

He stared at the photo with a slight smile. "I remember when this was taken," he commented, holding a corner of the frame. Mostly he remembered what transpired between them later on that evening when they were all alone. Even now, it brought a carnal smile to his lips. He could still remember the warm scent of her, the taste and feel of her – inside and out.

Rachel nodded. "Those were some good times." she whispered, taking the silver framed photo and shoving it into the bag.

"There will be more good times, Rachel." Kurt matched her whisper, cupping her cheek in his unique hand and brushing his thumb across the soft skin he found there. "I promise."

Tears threatened in her eyes as she met his gaze. "I've missed you, Blue." Her voice was barely audible. She wrapped her arms around him. "I've missed you so much." she finally admitted squeezing her eyes shut and clinging to him. How many nights had she sat on the kitchen floor with a drink in one hand and her phone in the other, just trying to get up the courage to call him. To tell him how much she missed him, how she couldn't feel anything but a painful numbness without him.

It was during one of those drink infused darknesses that she cut her hair off. The same night she'd been unable to work up the courage to call Kurt to let him know that she had miscarried their son.

She hadn't even been able to tell Kurt that she'd conceived the child, much less that she'd lost him.

Dr. Bomenmang had driven her home from the emergency room. He offered to stay with her, but she assured him she was fine and that she really just wanted to be alone. As soon as he left, she sat down on the cold tiles of kitchen floor sobbing for the child she'd never meet. What she had really wanted was what she had at this moment, Kurt's arms holding her tight. His silent assurance that, somehow, everything was going to be all right.

Sensing her deep sadness, Kurt pulled her even closer. They stood that way for several minutes before succumbing to the real world again. Reluctantly they separated and she retrieved her second secret treasure. Rachel reached into the darkness of the drawer and slowly pulled out a soft, pink blanket smudged with ash and soot. There was a heavy silence that neither of them broke as she carefully placed it in the bag and pulled the zipper shut. She choked down the urge to cry. She had never cried for Gracie. And she promised herself she never would.

"Is that everything?" Kurt asked, taking the bag in hand carefully. Knowing their daughter's nap time blanket was in there made it precious cargo. It was comforting to Kurt, in a strange way, that she kept mementos of himself and Gracie close to her. And made him feel a little less crazy that her snow globe was tucked away in _his_ nightstand.

Rachel took a breath and nodded. She had the only two things she care about from here. The rest of the place could burn as far as she cared.

Kurt grabbed his car keys as the two locked her apartment and headed back to the elevator.

The Audi stood in quiet readiness as Kurt unlocked the door and reached in the back. Sure enough, the expensive black Prada and laptop were right where Daniel had left them the night before. He handed her the items, eying the purse warily.

"Do you want to drive your car back?" she asked. "I can just meet you there."

He sat behind the wheel of the Audi and put the key in the ignition. Absently, he started to turn it over. Then he stopped. He missed having his car. But what would happen if Rachel decided to pop a couple of pills on her way back to the mansion? Probably nothing, but was he willing to risk that? He fought with himself. Was this paranoid worry or sincere concern? He shook his head and went to turn the ignition again. Then he sat back in the cold leather seat. After a few more moments, he pulled the key back out. Better to err on the side of caution.

"You know, I'll just come back for it later." He stepped out of the Audi with masculine grace. Shutting the door, the snubbed car beeped as he locked it.

Rachel frowned. "Why not just take it now?"

"How am I supposed to steal a smooch if I'm in another car?" he answered lightly as he pilfered a kiss off her lips just to prove his point. "Anyway I know how you drive." Kurt chuckled, taking the keys to the Bentley. "You are much safer with me behind the wheel." He grinned at her irritation.

"I'll have you know I am a terrific driver!" she retorted. "I haven't hit anything in weeks!" There was a dueling humor in her voice.

"You drive too fast." He countered with mock sternness, opening the passenger door for her. "There could still be ice on the overpasses."

"Just like a man!" She huffed. "Always have to be in control." She got in the passenger side and Kurt shut her door.

"Liebe," he laughed, cranking the ignition, hearing the Bentley roar to life. "When I am with you, I am not in control of _anything_!" His tail flirted with the hem of her shirt. "Not even myself!"

* * *

It was late when the two finally laid down to sleep. As Kurt lay there, he stared up at the ceiling with one arm around Rachel, the other resting on his chest. He waited to see if that sick longing would return to him tonight as it had nearly every night for months. For four months he had laid alone in their bed and stared at the ceiling until either, he had to get up and fight his monsters in the Danger Room or sheer exhaustion took hold and forced him to sleep.

But tonight, he didn't feel that monster he'd been rise up. He turned to his mate and studied her sleeping form in the darkness. His extraordinary eyes picked out every detail of her face as she slept curled next to him. She bore a peaceful expression. Kurt closed his eyes, laid his head back and had to laugh quietly to himself .

This woman. This _entirely_ human woman who talked a good game, but had never dealt true violence to anyone that he was aware of. This woman who couldn't shoot a gun or swing a sword or master the simplest physical combat. His demons ran from her. She brought him peace and rest.

"Thank you." He whispered to the Deity he knew had to be responsible for this. Rubbing his hand through her shorn locks, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and soon fell asleep himself.

* * *

Hank and Bobby split up breakfast duties as the slumbering school began to wake up. Pancakes and bacon were on the menu. Bobby chilled the orange juice and Hank flipped pancakes with a spatula in each hand.

"So, you think she's back for good or just for Christmas?" Bobby spoke up breaking the silence.

Hank didn't try to feign ignorance. The school had been abuzz with the rumors, speculations and bets for the past 24 hours. Most of the younger students were excited to think their pretty caregiver might be coming back to stay. Rachel, from time to time, enjoyed availing herself as a baby sitter for the youngsters if the X-Men were called away. She had an affinity for children and they for her. But the older students were also anxious to see if she stayed. Especially Kurt's students. All Mr. Wagner's pupils were praying Mrs. Wagner was back to stay so he would have something better to do than torture them with mountains of homework.

The large mutant shrugged. "Who can say? For Kurt's sake, I hope so. If I have to repair the Danger Room one more time because he's attacked it in the middle of the night-" He finished his threat by dragging a spatula across his throat in a slitting motion.

They both grinned and went back to work. All was quiet for a while. Before long though, the students and faculty were beginning to mill in. Piling breakfast onto their plates, they moved to the tables and clustered into their cliques. The mood was quiet and subdued. The students still at the school were there because they either had no family or no family that wanted them. Either way, Christmas Eve was not the joyous time for them that it was for most children.

* * *

Rachel was in the shower when Kurt woke up. He stared at the door. Closed. He sighed and reigned himself in. That was their unspoken signal. Bathroom door closed meant _I'll take a rain check. _Open door meant_ Come on in and join me._ Maybe she shut the door without thinking. Perhaps she had not wanted to wake him up. He worked hard a rationalizing a way into that shower with her, but eventually gave up.

Rachel had not been quite as wanton or amorous here as she was back at her apartment. He looked around. Why would she be? This bedroom had been the stage where they'd played out some of their most hurtful fights. This was the very spot where their life fell apart. In fact, it had taken him nearly three months to open the door without seeing Rachel standing there, suitcase in hand.

Getting up and throwing on his clothes, Kurt silently crossed the room and looked down at her purse on his desk like a coiled serpent. His tail knotted in anger as he opened it up and pulled out her prescription bottle.

_What have you done to my wife, Dr. Bomenmang?_ He stared at the bottle for a moment then disappeared in a burst of brimstone.

* * *

"Hank?" Kurt called out to the lab, shaking the orange pharmacy bottle in his hand. "I have Rachel's-" he stopped short at Hank's computer terminal; it was unlocked. In truth, there was rarely any reason for this particular computer to be locked. It wasn't tied into the network of computers that ran this facility. It was only used as the doctor's initial diagnostic tool, holding results and notes on any tests or scans run on here.

Kurt stared at the blank, inviting screen. On the way home last night, he'd hesitantly asked Rachel if she'd been feeling all right. If she'd been sick or had any medical problems. She instantly replied to the negative, but Kurt could tell she was holding something back from him.

So he mentioned that Hank had found something on one of her scans that concerned him. But, being the conscientious doctor that he was, he couldn't tell Kurt without her permission. To that Rachel feigned surprise and promised she would go find out what had Hank's fur twisted up. But, she didn't volunteer that Kurt could come with her or be privy to any of the information. She was hiding something and it ate away at him.

He was still her husband wasn't he? Didn't he have a God given right to know what was wrong even if it meant circumventing a few of McCoy's qualms?

But, what about his own qualms? His own integrity? Was the information on that computer worth risking the faith and trust Hank and Rachel had in him?

Now, he stood ten feet from the answers he so desperately wanted. All he had to do was click a few buttons. With angels and devils balancing on his shoulders, Kurt clenched his fists and his tail twisted as he took a hesitant step towards the forbidden terminal.


	18. So Close

Yzak – Did he read? Mmmm.....Maybe. Glad I snagged you with a cliff hanger...had to make sure you'd come back! :-)

Webby – Thanks for the awesome review – thoughtful as ALWAYS! And would I tease you?? Of course I would! And do you love it? Of course you do! ;-)

I know this chapter is a bit long - hope it still entertains you! As always - please R & R! Thanks!

* * *

The cafeteria quieted as the tall, half-breed Romani entered. She immediately crossed her arms defensively and tried to make herself as small as possible against the wall. She avoided eye contact as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

As she poured the creamer, Rachel felt her back prickle with the eyes of half the student body and staff staring at her. Normally she could bear being the center of attention gracefully and take the stares in stride. But not here, not right now. Without a word, she took her coffee cup and began to slip back out when she heard a familiar voice.

"Mrs. Rachel!" The voice was high and happy. Rachel knew immediately who it belonged to and couldn't help but smile.

"Emmy." Rachel turned her smile towards the tiny girl who had been her pint sized inquisitor at Alkali.

Her caramel curls and hazel eyes were lit with joy at seeing her favorite care giver. "Rogue told us you were here! Come sit with us!"

At first, Rachel started to protest. Emmy's outburst had only managed to draw even more attention to the self conscious woman. But the small mutant would not be denied. She wrapped her arms around Rachel's slender waist and hugged her tight. Sighing in defeat, Rachel let herself be led to a round table full of school's youngest members.

Most mutants had their abilities and abnormalities express themselves when puberty struck. But some, like Emmy, were not so lucky. Her abilities manifested when she was four years old. The small child was by far the youngest student at the school. Sammy, who was the next closest to her in age, was still twice as old as her. It broke Rachel's heart to see such a sweet little girl all alone in the world.

She had told Rachel that her father was dead. In truth, the petite girl's powers of pyrokinesis manifested in a fierce fireball that burned her father alive after he'd hit her mother one too many times. That manifestation enabled Xavier, using Cerebro, to lock onto the child. Her mother, now frightened of her own daughter, signed away her parental rights and Emmy became a ward of the school. The professor suppressed her abilities and the memories of her abusive past until she was older and better able to cope with both.

So for now she was a cheerful, chatty five year old who liked Barbie dolls, playing dress up and sitting in Rachel's lap.

The chair Rachel found herself in was built for those of a much smaller stature. She had to fold herself up like a bendy doll to accommodate her long legs. But, her discomfort was forgotten as everyone at the table was either sitting on Mrs. Rachel in some fashion or sidled up next her. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed this.

Ororo and Hank watched the scene from several tables away.

"Do you think we should go rescue her?" Hank asked with a tickled smile on his face.

"Why should one be rescued from paradise?" Ororo answered, pushing her plate away. "No one could fake a smile like that." Rachel's smile appeared infectious as it crossed the room and spread onto Storm Witch's face.

Rachel completely forgot the others in the room as she was drawn into the child like concerns of her breakfast companions.

"Mrs. Rachel??" Emily laid claim to her again. "Will you come play with us? We're gonna build a snowman."

Rachel nodded. "Of course, but I've never built a snowman. You'll have to show me how." With a knowing smile, she took another sip of coffee as Emily and the others pounced on the opportunity to debate the best method of snow man assembly. No topic was over looked. Even what materials made the best eyes, noses, and mouthes were discussed at length. Who had a spare scarf? Where was the best place to build him? What about a snow woman and snow children? By the time breakfast was over, Rachel assured them she felt well versed in the art of snowmanship and was eager to help them – as soon as they finished their chores.

The grumbles and whines were silenced with Rachel's observation that the sooner they got started, the sooner they'd be finished and could all go play. With that mindset, they scampered off with a promise that they'd come get Rachel when they were ready to go outside.

With a groan, Rachel unfolded herself from the too small chair and stood up, flexing her back and stretching her legs. She put her coffee cup on the conveyor belt and made her way back into the hallway. She started as she bumped headlong into Logan, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She mumbled an apology and sidestepped him. Of all the adults, he was the most openly hostile towards her. In a strange way, she appreciated that. At least she knew where she stood with him.

"Rachel, wait." The voice was almost civil. She stopped and turned around, her large, dark eyes wide with surprise.

"Yes, Logan?" she replied, warily.

"Listen, a bunch of us were going to get together this evening. If you're interested," he rubbed his bristled face, obviously uncomfortable, "you and Kurt are welcome to join us."

She nodded graciously, "Thank you." Wow. That was maybe the nicest thing any of the adults had offered to her since she showed up here yesterday. How funny that it would be Logan, of all people who'd - . She stopped her thought mid-sentence and narrowed her eyes, "Kurt asked you to be nice to me didn't he?"

"He'd like to see us bury the hatchet." was the vague reply.

_Hopefully not in my head._ she thought with a twist on her lips.

There was an awkward silence till Rachel spoke again. "I'm not trying to make things any harder, Logan. I swear I'm not." She laced her fingers in front of her defensively.

"I just don't want to see the Elf get hurt anymore." Logan's voice was gruff. "God knows he's been through enough."

Rachel cast her eyes to the floor and nodded her agreement when the feral surprised her with, "...'Course, I guess you have too."

"We_ all _have," she whispered, meeting his eyes. It was no secret that Logan had been one of Stryker's playthings long ago. "You and Kurt probably understand each other better than most." She paused again then admitted. "Sometimes I envy that." Kurt was not the same since Alkali. He tried to pretend that he was her same old Blue...and most of the time he was. But every now and again, when he was angry she could see the demon Stryker created lurking behind those unearthly glowing eyes. She had seen it and felt it the day they had their last fight. For a brief moment, she was sure he wanted to beat her to within an inch of her life that day.

Logan took a second to contemplate her admission. "Maybe." He moved on to less painful subjects. "Well, the offer stands if you're interested."

"I'd love to." she beamed with sincerity.

The two broke and went their separate ways. With a warm glow, Rachel continued down the hall and up the stairs. It was feeling more like home again, all the time.

* * *

Back in their room, Rachel had just enough time to check her email and return half a dozen calls on her cell phone, including confirming her gown fitting for the Hong Kong trip when tiny hands rapped at her door. She opened it to see half a dozen children with eager faces.

"Chores done already?" she asked with a doubtful tone. "That was awfully fast."

"Yes, ma'am!" They answered almost as a unit. Impetuous, smiling faces pressed forward.

Rachel shook her head. She was certain an inspection of their chores would reveal hurried, half hearted attempts, but – what the hey – it was Christmas Eve! She grabbed her coat, gloves, Kurt's toboggan and the warmest socks she could find.

Soon they were outside and the snowman building madness ensued. They built little snowmen and big snowmen and made attempts at snow animals. A couple of hours later, Rachel couldn't feel her extremities as things were winding down. Still, when Piotr stepped out into the cold to let them all know dinner was in thirty minutes, she couldn't resist.

He had just finished yelling his announcement into the frosty yard and turned to go back inside when something cold shattered harmlessly against the back of his neck. Instinctively, he reached up and pulled a handful of snow out of his dark hair. His looked at the little group his eyes locking with Rachel's.

Rachel gave him a doe eyed stare and pointed at Artie standing next to her. Artie, in turn, started at her in shock and humorous betrayal. In retaliation, the tall Russian leaned down and clamped together a snowball of his own. Soon the entire group was shrieking and howling in laughter as an impromptu snowball fight erupted. Rachel couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard or so long. She sank down in a makeshift fox hole dug into the deep snow, Piotr at her side.

"We're surrounded..." she confessed, dodging as yet another snowball narrowly missed.

"We're outnumbered..." he replied with a look of mock grimness.

"Do you think they'll sing heroic songs about us?" She waxed poetic.

"Limericks maybe." Piotr scrunched up his face as he dared a glance over the edge. Then he gave her an accusatory stare. "If I recall correctly, _you_ started this."

She smiled her most beaming smile. "The Devil made me do it!"

As if on cue, Rachel saw her demonic looking husband as soon as he walked out onto the patio. He was some distance away and totally oblivious to the fact he'd just made himself a target.

_Oh Ho! A challenge! _Rachel went up on her knees and took aim. The snowball caught Kurt Wagner in his curly head, spewing snow over his shoulders as the projectile exploded. Rachel might not be the best shot with a gun, but even with her tremors, few could beat the accuracy of her bare hands. She laughed in victory and was preparing a second volley when the expression on his face caused her unabashed joy to dampen. He was upset at something. And it wasn't the snowball.

Immediately she called a temporary cease fire with the advancing army of children and plowed through the deep snow. Kurt watched her with hooded eyes. "Blue, what's wrong?" Her lungs hurt from all the icy air they'd inhaled. When he didn't reply, her brow knotted in concern and her inside quiver.

"Could I speak with you – in private." His voice was as dark as his expression and Rachel felt her heart sink.

Tight lipped, she nodded and waved good bye to the little group as Piotr took over being primary care giver and target. As Rachel followed a somber Kurt inside, she heard a childish shriek of "Get him!!!"

She peeled off her snow drenched outer clothes as slowly as she dared in the side entrance's mud room and hung them up to dry. Kurt was silent, but his expression was foreboding. She felt apprehension rise up in her, her heart flapping against the inside of her chest like a loose sail in a high sea storm.

By the time they were standing back in their room, she was almost visibly shaking. Kurt tapped the edge of his desk, trying to gather his words.

"Blue?" She stood a safe distance away, her arms covering herself protectively. "What's wrong?"

Kurt's mind was racing. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself. He had to know that Rachel was all right. He never dreamed what he'd find in McCoy's initiatory notes.

_Perinatal mortality. D & C scarring inconsistent with miscarriage._

He couldn't read past that. She had been pregnant.

_Perinatal mortality. _

_Inconsistent with miscarraige._

"Why?" His voice was ragged, his head bent, unwilling to look at her.

"Why what?" Rachel wasn't sure what she was confessing to. There were so many sins to choose from.

"Don't play _stupid_ with me, Rachel!!" His temper snapped as he roared at her, slamming his fist down on the desk, causing the wary woman to jump. "I saw the scans! I read Hank's notes!!"

"You had NO right-" she hurled in self defense.

"I am you're HUSBAND! What _about_ MY rights?!" He yelled, lost in his emotions. He stalked towards her.

Rachel back pedaled away as fast as she could. True fear was in her eyes as she watched Stryker's demon emerging in his features. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you-" she started, trying to keep furniture between them; a self defense mechanism she'd developed from her many rounds with Ben Gammon.

"Tell me what!?" His face twisted in despair and anger. "That I had another child or that you killed it!!"

He was on her, but Rachel couldn't move. Her feet rooted to the ground at his accusation. She shook her head, "I didn't..." but no other words would come out. It had been on her heart since Dr. Bomenmang rushed her to the emergency room the day she'd started cramping in the middle of a session. Even, in her drugged haze, as she lay curled up on her side in an emergency room partition, the smell of sweet antiseptic making her sick, the sound of med staff and tools clattering and equipment being rolled around like thunder in her ears, she blamed herself. It had to be her fault. There was no one else to blame. If only she'd taken better care of herself, if only she'd gotten prenatal care, if only...

Now, all those doubts came falling down on her as Kurt grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her towards him. "Is there ever going to come a time when I father a child that I WON'T be the last person on Earth to know about it?!?" He felt his self control slipping away as her shook her slender frame violently. "TELL ME! WHY??" he yelled at her.

"I'm sorry." was all she could muster in a broken whisper as she bore his manhandling. She kept her eyes averted, unable to meet his wrathful glare.

"You're SORRY!?" He shoved her away. "Well, I guess that makes everything all right then." he spat, viciously. He started to grab her again when an icy cold spear of realization pierced his madness. Kurt froze mid stride. _Oh dear God...._he swallowed hard, that nauseous, addictive poison coursing in his veins. He looked down at his hands; hands that had shook Rachel like a rag doll. He crouched all the way to the floor, his hands clenched, trying expel the demon and get his self control back. His heart beat painfully in his chest at the reality of what he was doing.

She stumbled away from him as he tried to get himself under control. She kept her eyes carefully trained on the floor. _Don't cry. It'll only be worse if you cry... _whispered up from a dark part of her memory. From the days when she lived on the never ending roller coaster of Ben's moods. _Stay still. Don't cry, don't speak, don't look. _Tears rimmed her eyes, but she couldn't shed them. She didn't dare.

The two were quiet for several minutes. When Kurt was finally confident he was back in control, he stood up. He gave her a sad, wary look as he contemplated why she would have gotten rid of the child. Why she wouldn't have told him. The notes he'd read did not indicate how far along Rachel had been. But, they had been separated for months and Rachel was a very desirable woman.

"_Was_ it mine?" His voice was quiet and filled with doubt.

At that, Rachel shook herself out of her stupor. "Was it..." Her face stung at his accusation like a physical blow. She dared a glanced at him and saw the demon was gone. Her courage came back to her. "How can you even ask me that?"

"Answer my question."

"Yes. Damn it!" Her voice wavered as she clenched her fists. A single tear escaped and slipped down her face. "_He_ was yours – happy?"

"No." he answered, clenching his own fists and pacing wildly. His child. She aborted _his_ child. Why? Why would she have done this?? Why would she have fought so hard to keep Gracie and murdered this child without a word?

In her mind, Rachel had played out the scene where she'd finally tell Kurt about his son. Kurt would be heart broken, but he'd be strong. He was always so strong. He'd take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. And they'd cry together for the babies they'd lost. She thought she might even be able to cry for Gracie...

Now, she felt like a naive, day dreaming child, seeing how this was playing out in real life. She was in shambles, Kurt was stalking the room like a wild animal. They two avoided each other's gaze; their carefully mending relationship in pieces once again.

"I'm sorry." she repeated again. It was all she could think to say.

"Me too." Kurt stopped for a moment. "And I'm sorry I implied you were unfaithful - it's just-" _Just what? You're beautiful and wealthy...and you could have any man you wanted. Why did you ever want to be with someone like me in the first place?_ From the very first time he kissed her, those fears rose up in him.

The Xmen were urban legends. Grainy, shadowy photographs popped up on the internet from time to time of these elusive heros. But there was one who was almost impossible to catch on film. He seemed to be there one second and gone the next. He vanished into shadow. 'Nightcrawler,' he was called. The chat rooms buzzed. Who was he? _What_ was he? The world looked at the few, very fuzzy photos and saw an exotic, otherworldly creature; but he did not see a mysterious, alluring incubus in his reflection. All he saw was Kurt Wagner, a trapeze artist with a demonic, horribly misshaped body, a freak. But instead of confiding in her, he shook his head and walked towards the door. "What's done is done, Rachel. If you haven't already, I'll go with you to confession."

_Confession?_ Rachel knitted her eyebrows in confusion. _For a miscarriage?_

Kurt bit back saying more as he opened the door and let himself out.

When he finally shut the door, Rachel sat in the floor propped up by the bed and cried. She cried till there just weren't anymore tears left. Her head and her heart ached. Standing up, she dug her pills out of the very bottom of her purse. That was odd. She was sure she had both bottles in there. But extensive pawing through her things only turned up one. She couldn't help but ponder what had happened to the other one.

In minutes, she was beginning to feel better. An overwhelming desire to go back to her apartment rose up in her. Empty and spent, she changed out of her snow soddened clothes and picked up her overnight bag with Gracie's blanket in it. Fortunately she hadn't even unpacked it yet. She hefted her purse, briefcase and laptop bag onto her shoulders and she was ready.

This time when she opened the door, Kurt was not standing on the other side. Only an empty hallway. From somewhere in the distance, she heard the sounds of laughter and Christmas music. Rachel only bowed her head and made for the garage. She threw her things in the back and settled in the driver's seat before remembering Kurt still had the keys. She sighed and, getting back out, retrieved wire strippers from Logan's tool box. Leaning under the steering column, she yanked out the starter wires. A few cuts with the wire strippers and a couple of sparks later, she was in business as the molested Bentley came to life. As Rachel tucked the wires out of the way, she remembered Ben showing her how to hot wire a car. It was maybe the only useful thing he'd ever done for her. She sat there for a moment, but before she could start doubting herself or change her mind, Rachel put the car in gear and pulled out of the garage, watching the sun start to sink into the horizon.

* * *

The red-eye flight back was murder. Ben rubbed his blood shot eyes bemoaningly. The stewardess gave him a winning smile as she brought him his drink.

Ben knew Cornelius well enough to know that they had done more than contemplate forcing Rachel to brood mare for them. If he mentioned it, it was a safe bet plans were already in the works to bring her to them. The tall, handsome blond couldn't bear to think of Rachel being treated like those runaway whores who'd been brought in to surrogate. The only course of action Ben had was to get to Rachel first.

So he sat in first class on a direct flight back to New York. His mind was spinning with plans as he slowly sipped his bourbon. Somehow, he had to get Rachel out of harms way before Weapon X got to her. Once they were through with her, she wouldn't be good for anything.

No, he'd spent far too much time and money to let them have her. She belonged to him and the sooner _everyone_ realized that, the better.


	19. Blue Christmas

Chick-flick – Yes, Ben is seriously, f*cking crazy! Just wait till you see what he has planned for our two!

Webby – Thanks! It is a God given right for a woman to steal her husband's clothes! And thanks, as always, for red grammar sword that beta's through these chapters!

X-nerd – Wow! Thanks for the compliments! Yeah, Ben really does need to die a slow painful death, doesn't he? ;-) I'm glad you like the interchange between Logan and Kurt. Wasn't sure how that would be received. :-)

Yzak – Do you have any idea how disappointed I would be if I didn't get a review from you? Lol! I'm glad you thought that was awesome!

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By late afternoon Hank was finally able to swap his stained white apron for a pristine white lab coat.. If the institute's attendance kept increasing at its current rate, they would have to start bringing in a 'real' staff to run the daily affairs of a school. He knew wasn't the only one feeling the strain. Everyone was juggling more hats than they cared to these days.

Once in his 'fortress of solitude' as Bobby had quipped it, he discovered a prescription bottle with Rachel's name on it. It sat quietly on a stainless steel counter with a note taped to its plastic childproof cap. Hank picked it up and immediately frowned. He still had not been able to decipher the riddle of the Dr. Bomenmang's name. But he knew that name was hiding something.

The attached note informed him that Kurt had been there and would like him to discern if these pills were, in fact, how nanobots were entering Rachel's system. The fuzzy German's normally graceful strokes seem skewed somehow, as if he was distracted.

"hmm..." Beast mused, a frown still marring his calm features as he prepped his equipment. Settling down at his terminal, the crease in his brow deepened. The computer mouse sat abandoned in the upper corner of the mouse pad. The burly blue mutant pulled the mouse back to the center of the pad and tapped at it lightly. He always left his mouse in the _center_ of the mouse pad...he looked at the note attached to the bottle, dwarfed by his large hands. He looked up at the computer. He looked back down at the bottle.

With trepidation building, Hank set the pills down and accessed the unlocked terminal. _He wouldn't have. Not Kurt. _The German might have his share of imperfections, but Hank couldn't imagine that the honest, open natured mutant would knowingly breach a trust. Then Hank thought about how angry and upset Kurt had been and typed faster. "Last accessed at..." He ran through the logs. The school's resident doctor was not the last person to access this computer. Hank felt a incredulous tingle run through him. _My stars and garters – he did._

Hank muttered under his breath as he continued to investigate. What files were accessed?? He cursed the computer that simply couldn't keep up with his quick fingers and quicker mind. "Files, damn it! What files?" Suddenly, he stopped short.

"Oh no."

He jumped off his stool and broke for the door.

"Kurt!!"

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The interstate was packed with holiday traffic. It made Rachel feel small and ignored. She knew she couldn't be the only person alone on Christmas Eve – but that was how it felt as she passed one car after another loaded with people and presents.

She should have known it was too good to be true; that she and Kurt would be able to patch things up so quickly. It completely stunned Rachel how angry he was with her for miscarrying. And her heart was torn in two at his insinuation that she'd been sleeping around; that maybe the child hadn't even been his. She wiped away another tear with the back of her hand.

Rachel was lost in those hurtful accusations when her cell rang. It startled her at first, then she sighed as saw Tracy's number against the back light. Still she answered it. Her PA was annoying as Hell, but she got the job done.

"Yeah, Tracy..." She answered, steering with one hand, turning on her blue tooth with the other. Finally she returned both hands to the wheel.

Without preamble, the PA launched into her 'to do' list. "Did you confirm the appointment for your final gown fitting?" The tone was admonishing.

"Yes, I did that this afternoon." The Hong Kong Conference was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. She fought to keep the irritation out of her voice. She wanted to strike out at someone, and Tracy was always a tempting target.

"When will you be returning from your trip?" The tone was professional, but Rachel could hear the disapproving tone in her voice.

_You mean when am I going to get my legs out of the air and get back to work?_ "I'm headed back to my apartment now." Rachel replied. "Things got cut short." Her jaw clenched with the effort not to tear up again.

"Really?" It was rare to surprise Tracy.

"Yes, really." She gripped the steering wheel. Then another thought hit her. Kurt didn't just have her car keys, he had her house key as well. _Damn it!_ "Tracy, do you still have a spare key to my apartment?"

"I'll leave it in my mailbox." She could practically hear Tracy shaking her head.

"Thanks, Tracy. I'd be lost without you." It was as close to a complement as either of them would allow.

"I know." was the almost humorous reply.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hank looked for Kurt in his room, the danger room, the gym, the rec room, the kitchen, but had no luck turning up the fuzzy mutant. He was nowhere in the house. No one had seen him or Rachel since before dinner.

Suddenly, Hank snapped his fingers and went outside, trudging through the snow on a hunch. Sure enough, the lights were on in the little campus chapel. _Please. Please let him have used some discretion._ Hank prayed. But judging from the fact that Rachel was also also missing, either they were in there together, or Kurt was in there alone after saying some things he was bound to regret.

"Kurt?" Hank swung the door open, grateful for the warm air rushing over his face. He closed the door behind him and shook off the cold. The church was decorated for Christmas, right down to a realistic depiction of the Nativity Scene in one corner. The entire place smelled of the evergreen garland that was draped throughout.

"Ja, Doktor?" Kurt looked up from his meditation. He was knelt down, his tail neatly curled around him. The spiked cross that hung from his Rosary swayed slightly as the Catholic passed yet another bead through his unique fingers. One look at Hank's face and the repentant mutant knew the good doctor had discovered his transgression.

His head sunk a little lower. "I broke your trust. I am truly sorry." _More than you'll ever know. _For the hundredth time he wished he hadn't seen what those files had shown him. "I understand, now, why you refused to let me see Rachel's files."

"I appreciate your honesty, Kurt." Hank smiled, accepting his apology. Sitting down on the pew across from Kurt, he motioned to the large cross on the wall. "But I don't think you came here seeking _my_ forgiveness." There was a hint of concern in Hank's voice. "Did you look at all of the files?" Hank leaned back and waited.

Kurt shook his head, making his ebony curls sway slightly. "Nein. Only enough to know there was a...." He struggled with the word, "_terminated _pregnancy." He spared the slightest glance at the infant in the makeshift manger scene, then stared intently back at the beads in his hand.

He had come to the little chapel seeking answers and comfort, but received neither. All he got were more questions. _Why?_ was the question that kept resurfacing over and over again. Why, when Rachel loved children so much, would she do something that was so fundamentally against her character and against their Faith? She had not been able to go through with an abortion when pregnant with Gracie, even when everything in the world had to be telling her it was the logical thing to do. In fact, the guilt of it all nearly drove her mad. Why had this child, a son it seemed, been so different? Something about this whole situation felt..._wrong,_ somehow. There was some piece of the puzzle that just wasn't fitting. Some part of the equation he was overlooking.

"So you believe your wife had an abortion?" The words were a gentle as could be made under the circumstances.

Kurt's eyes dimmed at the accusation. He passed another bead through his fingers, the prayer of the Rosary repeating silently in his head. "That is what the notes revealed." He answered as neutrally as he could. Another bead slipped along.

"No. The notes said that the scarring was inconsistent with a miscarriage, that's all." Hank laced his large fingers together. He wanted to be more irritated, but never was one to kick a man when he was down. Besides, he doubted there was anything he could say or do that would make poor Kurt feel any worse than he was feeling at that very moment.

Kurt couldn't keep his head from slowly turning to meet Beast's gaze. His eyes brightened and narrowed to intense glowing slits. "_Was_??" He rose to his feet and tucked his rosary into his pocket. He crossed the aisle and climbed on the back of the pew facing Hank. His abnormal feet grasped the smooth wood as he perched in a bird-like stance. "What are you saying?" His heart beat faster in his chest.

Hank stood up and motioned to the German. "Come with me and I'll show you what I mean." Kurt followed, throwing on his coat, and joined the other blue mutant as they made their way back towards the house.

The snow clouds had finally emptied themselves and disappeared, leaving behind a surreal landscape of soft marshmallow shapes, glittering under the light of a full moon. But the bitter cold made it difficult to enjoy the peacefulness of the frozen scene. The sun had set an hour ago and the temperature had plummeted. Their breaths came out in freezing puffs of condensation as the two hurried back to the main house.

Soon they stood in the warmth of Hank's lab as he commanded his computers to pull up all of Rachel's files. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ Hank thought as he prepared to share everything he knew.

"I don't think Rachel had a miscarriage" He scratched his chin, staring at the scans taken of the linings of her uterine wall. "But I don't think she had an abortion either."

Kurt sat cross legged on the counter next to Beast as he sat on his stool. The weary former acrobat shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "That makes no sense, Hank. If she didn't have a miscarriage and didn't have an abortion...shouldn't she still be pregnant?"

Hank raised his hands in frustrated uncertainty. "These D & C scars are not the scrape-like contusions I would expect from either procedure. In fact, they're like nothing I've ever seen. They are precise. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were cauterization scars."

"Isn't cauterization only used to stop bleeding?" Kurt offered, studying the scans himself. Hank nodded, he had to give Kurt credit. To have no formal medical training, he was turning out to be a fine field medic. In fact, Kurt was turning out to be a natural at most everything he tried his hand at. He even mechaniched on the Black Bird a few times and was becoming _quite _lethal with his swordsmanship.

"There are a myriad of blood vessels that attach the placenta to the uterine wall. If someone were trying to severe the placenta from the uterine wall, they'd almost surely have to cauterize those vessels as they went." He motioned to the placement of the scars. "I would have to run more tests, but I can't help but believe someone was trying to remove the fetus alive and intact."

"Is that even possible?" Kurt felt sick. And then, more to the point, "Why would someone do that??" His head spun with possibilities, none of them good. He turned pale under his fur at the horrific thought of his child floating in a high tech incubation tank like he'd seen dozens of time on the 'late show' movies he'd watched growing up.

Hank could see Kurt turning a little green under his indigo fur. The doctor shook his head. "I wish I knew, Kurt." He stood up. "If Rachel would permit me to examine her more closely, it's possible I could draw a more precise hypothesis of exactly what happened. Do you know where she would be?"

Kurt was uncertain that Rachel would consent to that. She'd shared very little of what had happened to her at Alkali, but it would seem she'd been treated to a number of humiliating 'examinations' that left her scarred inside and out. But given the stomach rending theory Hank had, perhaps she could be persuaded to cooperate. He stretched out his legs and hopped gracefully to the floor. "She was in our room when I left."

Hank shook his head, "I've checked there already. Anywhere else she might be?"

"Herr Logan was going to invite her to the Christmas party. She _might_ be there." He really doubted that, though, as he remembered hearing her in tears through the door as he stood in the hallway. He'd almost opened that door and gone back to her. But his pride, mingled with self doubt, held him back. He clenched his fists in the pockets of his jeans as the two made their way back up to the main level of the school. He couldn't believe, now, the things he'd accused her of. He shook his head admonishingly; he should have had more faith in her.

Kurt's head spun and his stomach turned in knots as he tried to imagine what kind of monster would have stolen a child, literally, out of its mother's body – and why. They needed to find Rachel. Every passing second left Kurt more wary and on edge. Something was something very, _very_ wrong.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ben tossed his one suitcase on the floor next to his bed. He checked his monitors just to make sure, if by some miracle, Rachel had returned. But all he saw was one darkened room after another. Heaving a sigh, the handsome blond pulled his clothes off and climbed in the shower. Letting the hot water wash over him, the muscle knotting tension of Cornelius' meeting and the following rush back to New York, wore into a deep weariness that eventually led him out of his bath and into bed.

Laying there, he stared up at the ceiling, stroking Rachel's long pony tail with one hand and idly rubbing the scar on his chest with the other. He cursed the furry demon who had put that mar on his otherwise flawless body. Nightcrawler was a trickster; Ben realized that now. He'd tricked him into shooting himself with his own gun!

Suddenly, he winced as his fingers brushed a sensitive spot. The entry point was small, only about the size of a dime. But once the hollow point met with the muscle and bone of his rib cage, all Hell had broken loose. The bullet from his Beretta had fragmented on impact, embedding into the surrounding bone and tissue. Dr. Cornelius had done an admirable job saving Ben's life and cleaning up the bloody mess. But he'd warned Ben that there would always be some amount of pain to be expected from an injury such as his.

That suited Ben just fine. The pain reminded him of just how much he hated the damned blue monkey. Every time he'd start to loose his way in the past ten months, a sudden sharp pain would bring him back to his purpose, which was to get Rachel back and put that gene joke back in the circus where he belonged.

Smiling, with those pleasant thoughts in his head, Ben Gammon fell into a peaceful slumber.

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Okey dokey! - please read and review!! Thanks!


	20. How Not to Spend Christmas Eve

X-nerd – Yes, see what happens when you make assumtions Kurt? Glad you like the interplay between Hank, Logan, and Kurt. That will show up through out the story. :)

Yzak – You thought last chapter had a cliff hanger? You ain't see nothin' yet!

* * *

The phone was ringing as Rachel opened her door with her borrowed key. She was so weary, she'd left everything except her purse in her car. The sight of Kurt's Audi in her garage had caused her to burst into tears all over again. But she felt that painful numbness creep back into her as the elevator carried her up thirty desolate floors. By the time she was unlocking her door, she felt almost nothing at all.

She didn't even turn on the lights as she picked up the phone. The backlight illuminated a familiar Boerum Hill prefix as she checked her caller ID, forced a smile and answered.

"Merry Christmas, Ray!" Daniel's voice was, as always a welcome sound to Rachel's ears no matter what mood she was in.

"Merry Christmas, Danny." Her voice was sincere; she wished it had been more cheerful.

"I thought you were spending the holiday in Salem?" The tone was suspicious.

"If you thought I was in Salem, why did you call here?" she returned, avoiding his question altogether.

That brought a full fledged laugh. "I was planning on leaving a message. I cleaned up a few more of those files you gave me." There was a pause, then he ventured. "Ray, I know I'm just the 'fix-it' guy, but where in the Hell are you getting these files from??" There was almost an anxious timber in his voice. "I've never seen encryptions like these in my life."

"And never will again, Danny." Rachel's voice was firm. Where in the _Hell_ had she gotten those files from? She shook her head at the irony that he'd answered his own question and didn't realize it.

"Fine. Keep your secrets; it'll be less for me to have to testify to" He exhaled in discontent. "Listen, since Rory and I are going to be out that way, do you mind if I drop them off on our way?"

"That'll be fine." Her voice was hollow as it echoed in the empty, dark penthouse.

"Ray..." Daniel's voice was now soft and concerned. "Why aren't you in Salem? What happened?"

For the briefest second, Rachel almost broke down and told him everything. There was a time when he'd been her best friend. And, right now, she desperately needed a best friend to confide in. Instead she only shook her head.

"Nothing, Danny." she answered quietly, rubbing her tired eyes.

There was another long pause. Then, "Did this Kurt guy do something to hurt you?" The tone turned fierce. It would seem they were running the gamut of emotions he felt for her.

"No." Rachel lied. "I just decided to come home early."

"All right." Daniel backed off. There was a brief pause. "Hey, Ray. Why don't you put on your dancing shoes? We're going to a party; come with us. You used to love going to parties."

"I appreciate it, Daniel." Rachel declined, graciously. "But, I really just want to hang out for a little bit around the house." She faked a smile, hoping it would make her lies sound more believable.

There was a sigh on the other end. "If you say so. But if you change your mind-"

"You'll be the first person I call," she promised. "Listen, Danny, I hate to cut you off, but I just got in the door and I'm pretty worn out."  
With that, Daniel reluctantly surrendered altogether. "All right, Ray. I'll just slide the files under your door. Take care of yourself." It was obvious he didn't want to leave her all alone, especially on Christmas Eve. "Merry Christmas."

"Thanks, Danny. You and Rory have fun. Merry Christmas," she answered, and hung up.

The TV came to life with a click of the remote, bathing the living room in a blue light. Rachel sat on the sofa, flipping through show after show depicting impossibly perfect families facing and solving insurmountable, holiday related problems in one hour or less. Disgusted with fairy tales, she finally settled on CNN and let the anchorman drone on ignored as she got up to pour herself a drink.

* * *

Logan had just arrived at the party when Hank and Kurt descended upon him. The Christmas gathering was getting into full swing as the faculty gathered. The older students were happily buzzing amongst themselves at being allowed to stay up past curfew. The younger students were grumbling about the unfairness of it all as they were preparing to be shuttled off to their rooms.

"Logan, have you seen Rachel?" Kurt asked, his pulse was beating a little fast inside his head. Where was she hiding? They had turned the house upside down and hadn't turned up a trace of her. He had even poked his head into Emmy's room. He knew how attached Rachel was to the little girl, but no luck. All he saw was a mass of light brown curls already asleep on her pillow.

Logan shook his head. "No, I thought she'd be with you."

"Nein." Kurt shook his head, a dark frown on his face. "Every time I turn my back, it would seem, she disappears!" He was seriously considering the consequences of just keeping her tied to a chair. "No one has seen her all evening."

"I thought I saw her going into the garage." Rogue offered.

"And you didn't tell anyone??" Kurt cried incredulously.

"Should I have?" Her tone was defensive.

Kurt and Hank left the conversation in the air as they made for the garage. Grumbling and muttering to himself, Logan followed.

* * *

The cell phone rang insistently as Ben fought to ignore it. Finally, pulling himself out of his slumber, he grumbled, his bleary eyes trying to make out the name on caller ID. Only a few people had this number.

"Yes?" His voice was smooth and smoky, laced with that southern drawl women seemed to love.

A few muddled words passed over the phone made him sit straight up, throw the sheets aside and launch himself out of the bed. "She's where??"

A great smile flooded his features.

_Good girl. I knew you'd come back to me the first chance you got._

With effort, he turned his attention back to the phone. "You just made my Christmas! I owe you one." He voice dripped with promises he had no intention of keeping. He laughed at some flippant comment from the caller, then said his good-byes.

He hung up the phone, his fatigue forgotten. There was a God! Rachel was all alone in that big expensive apartment. He threw on his clothes and glanced at the monitor. The image was one of Rachel laying on the living room sofa, watching TV with a drink in her disinterested hand.

"Now, sweetheart, that is NO way for you to spend Christmas." He grinned ear to ear as he briefly checked his reflection, ran his fingers through his hair, and prepared to run to her rescue.

* * *

"Is it possible that she's left the campus? Returned to her apartment?" Hank asked, concerned for her safety.

"Why in the Hell would she have left?" Logan asked, exasperated. "Before dinner, she and the kids were building snowmen. It was a friggin' scene from a Norman Rockwell painting."

"I'm afraid I am to blame." Kurt spared a glance to Hank who kept a distinctly neutral expression. "I jumped to conclusions and said some things that I shouldn't have." His head dipped in shame as he dug in his jeans pocket. "It is quite possible she wants to leave. But, fortunately I still have her-" they turned on the garage lights and turned their eyes to the barren spot that marked the spot where her car should have been – again.

"-keys." the car keys jangled uselessly in his numb hand. "Where is it!?" he demanded incredulously.

Logan knelt down on the garage floor. He picked up his wire strippers and tiny pieces of wire coating. "Starter wires," he sighed, examining the color and diameter of the coatings. "Car's been hot wired."

"It would appear our girl is a lady of many talents." Hank matched Logan's sigh.

"I will call her." Kurt offered and bamfed to his room. He knew this phone call would require privacy. Picking up his cell, he hesitated for a moment, then dialed her number with a determined look on his angular features. There was several rings then the loud silence of someone answering but not yet ready to speak.

"What do you want?" Rachel distinctive drawl was tight and hurt.

"Rachel, Liebe, where are you?" Kurt sat in the desk chair, leaning forward in his desire to find her.

"Why do you care?" she shot back. "Want to go for Round 2?" Now she was openly angry. "You already said I was child killer and a whore. What else you got?"

For a moment, Kurt was completely stunned. He had never actually _called _her those things, but those were his accusations just the same. Dear God, what had he been thinking?? "I'm sorry. I made a mistake; I was wrong." He fought to make amends and explain himself. "I thought you'd had an...an abortion and I just-"

"You thought _what_?" Now it was Rachel's turn to be stunned. When she recovered, she was white hot. "You thought I had-after everything I-" She was so angry she couldn't even finish her sentences. He could hear the tears in her fury. "I had a miscarriage, you Son of a Bitch!!"

It was the first time she'd ever cursed him. His large fingers gripped the slim phone tighter as he tried to stay calm for both their sakes.

"Rachel, I'm sorry-"  
"You sure as Hell are!" she spat. "How _dare_ you! Where were you when I was all alone in that emergency room?? WHERE WERE YOU?!" she screamed.

Kurt could feel the rage and anguish in her voice. "Rachel," he answered softly. "You know I would have been there if I'd known-"

"All you had to do was pick up the phone!!" she couldn't keep herself from sobbing. "Four months, Kurt! _Four months!!_." She was barely coherent "And not a call, an email...nothing!"

Kurt kept his silence, knowing she wasn't finished yet.

The line was silent for a moment before she wiped her eyes, took a breath, and continued. "I have no one, Kurt." Her voice was quiet and desolate. "No one but you. And you didn't even care enough to check on me...not once."

Kurt could have rebutted that _she'd_ been the one to leave, _she_ should have been the one to call. Instead, he took in her hurt for a moment. For the first time he realized that, for all her money, for all her power and prestige – she was completely alone in the world. Finally, he answered. "I'm so sorry, Schatz." His voice was gentle and conciliatory. "I honestly thought you didn't want to see me. That you wanted me to stay away and you'd call me when you were ready." He paused for a moment, hating that they were doing this over the phone. "I never meant to hurt you."

There was another long silence as Rachel clung to her phone with trembling hands, but didn't answer.

"We'll get through this, Rachel," he promised her as solemnly as he had vowed to love, honor and cherish her. "Just, please, come back home. We can't fix anything with you in one place and me in another."

Rachel sat on her sofa, tears streaming down her face. For a few moments, she was overwhelmed by her feelings.

"Are you sure?" she whispered when she finally got her voice back.

She heard a soft chuckle and could almost feel him shaking his head. "Yes, Liebe, I am sure. Would you like me to come and get you?"

There was a time, before Gracie's death when she'd have scolded him for even suggesting such an offer. But now, she so often felt lost and helpless, all she could do was answer, "Would you mind?"

"I'll be right there." She could hear the comforting smile in his voice.

"I'll see you in a few minutes?" He'd have to teleport; his car was still here.

"Just let me tell the others that you're all right." Before she could object, he finished. "They were worried when you came up missing. Believe it or not, you have many friends here."

Rachel didn't answer out loud, but a small smile crept onto her face. Then she spoke again. "Blue?"

"Yes, Rachel?" he answered.

"I love you." It seemed such an inadequate expression of her feelings, but it was all she could think to say.

"I love you, too." came the warm, sincere reply. "Stay put. I'll be right there."

* * *

A much relieved Kurt materialized in the garage were Logan and Hank were still debating on the best course of action.

"I take it you found her?" Hank asked, noting the demeanor of his tail as it orchestrated a happy beat behind him.

"Ja." Kurt nodded. "She is safe and at her apartment. I'm going to go get her." He felt his body preparing to teleport. It started with a tingling sensation in the front of his brain and flooded through him like a wild fire.

Before Logan or Hank could object, their blue furred friend vanished in a 'bamf'.

"Damn it, Elf!" Logan growled. "One day, that idiot is going to get himself killed over the likes of that woman!"

Hank shook his head. "'To say the truth, reason and love keep little company nowadays.'" he observed with a defeated sigh, waving the foul smelling smoke away from his face.

"Shakespeare?" Logan asked, tossing his wire cutters into his tool box.

"Yes, actually. I'm impressed, Logan." Hank nodded.

"I figured you had to be quoting some dead guy or another." he answered, gruffly deflecting the compliment.

Before either could speak again, Xavier's voice was loud and clear in their heads.

"Logan. Hank. I need you in my office immediately." His tone mandated they waste no time.

"That doesn't sound good." Logan frowned, making for the door back into the house.

"Indeed." Hank agreed, close on Logan's heels.

* * *

Rachel was waiting with her coat on and purse over her shoulder, when Kurt appeared to her in a burst of brimstone. She couldn't suppress the great smile that spread over her as her husband kissed her lips soundly and then enveloped her in an intense embrace. For a long time, the two simply stood together and hugged each other tight.

"Ready to go?" he asked, pulling his car keys out of his pocket with one hand, the other arm still around her. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Her ebony colored eyes were still red from crying, but their sparkle was coming back.

Rachel nodded, "Yes, Blue." She buried her head against his shoulder. After a second, she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I don't know what possessed me to run away again." She flushed, keeping her face pressed against him so she didn't have to meet his eyes. The desire to come back here had been overwhelming; just as it had been when she'd been in the med lab. For some reason it frightened her.

"Liebe, we had a terrible fight." Kurt bowed his head. "I am the one who should apologize." He pulled her away to look her in the eye. "I am sorry for _ever_ implying you would be unfaithful....or that you'd-" he forced himself to finish, "that you'd have ever done anything to harm our son." He knew this should wait until they got home, but he had to get that guilt off his chest. The weight of it had been crushing him.

Tears sprang back into her eyes at the mention of their lost child, but she only nodded and held close to him again. "I know, Blue. I should have told you I was pregnant as soon as I knew. But so much had happened and I'd said so many terrible things to you...I was just too afraid. And then-" she swallowed more tears. "it was too late." That night, sitting on the kitchen floor was the loneliest night of her life. She never wanted to go through something like that alone ever again. She felt Kurt's arms around her and smiled.

"Ready?" Kurt asked, kissing her forehead. His tail wrapped itself around them. "Let's take my car."

Rachel nodded her agreement. "Ready when you are," she replied, her arms already locked around him.

In a flash, they were standing in the garage. "My things are still in the Bentley." she advised. Making quick work of it, the two threw her bags into the Audi's trunk and jumped in.

After Rachel was in the passenger seat, Kurt clicked on his inducer and jogged around and slid into the driver's side. Without preamble, he turned the key in the ignition. The car gave a strange pause as the engine started to turn over. Suddenly, Kurt jumped and Rachel gave a start as the doors automatically locked on their own. Instantaneously, a white, misty vapor began rushing in through the vents. They pulled at the door handles in vain. Starting to cough and choke at the sickening smell, Kurt tried teleport them away only to find he couldn't.

Months of rigorous training training kicked in as the Weapon X agent turned Xman twisted himself around, put his feet against the driver's side window and kicked at the glass for all he was worth. Nothing. The gas was leeching his strength and reason. Rachel was already out cold, her head slumped against the headrest, and he was having to fight just to stay conscious. Holding his breath as best he could, he slammed his heels against the window again with all his remaining strength. This time he was rewarded by the sound of shattering glass as it spewed out onto the garage floor.

But, it was too late. Even as the gas dissipated into the garage, Kurt felt a nauseating sense of light headedness. His head in Rachel's lap, staring up at the upholstered roof of his car, the world began spinning away as he slipped into darkness with her.

The next thing Kurt knew, he was being dragged and out of the passenger side of the car and dumped onto the cold concrete. Groggy and completely disoriented, he moaned quietly, fighting a loosing battle to stay alert. He sensed someone looming over him and a skewed glance at himself showed that his inducer was off line as blue, trifingered hands lay uselessly at his sides.

There was something tight around his throat. With a sick feeling, he instinctively knew what it was. An inhibitor collar.

In seconds his hands were tied behind his back and his feet were bound. The zip ties being used were tortuously tight and bit deep into his velvety skin. He was rolled onto his back and felt himself being dragged across the pavement. As he was towed along his hands were burning, being rubbed raw as they were trapped between his body and the rough surface of the garage floor.

A hot spike of anger and disbelief ran all the way from the base of his neck to the spade of his limp tail as incapacitated mutant heard a voice from the grave taunting him. Even in his drug infused mind, he recognized that voice.

"Miss me, freak??"


	21. And the White Horse You Rode In On

X-nerd - Thanks for the awesome review!! Glad you like the resolution of thier fight. No one should spend Christmas fighting! Afraid I can't kill Ben just yet...he's still useful to me. (_insert evil laugh here!_)

Webbs - Thanks for betaing this chapter for me and for all the great advice! Couldn't do it without you. Well, I could but we'd be floating in a sea of comma's.

Fallen - Please, don't Explode! I implore you! What a mess that would be to clean up!! lol. I am very flattered you think so highly of my stuff. Thanks!

Yzak - You know how much I LUV cliffies!! Thanks for the continued support. :)

Pyrogasmic - One of the best you've read?? Thank you! Of course I will continue on! Please continue to review! Thanks so much!

* * *

In a large conference room amid the tunnels that made up the Xmen's headquarters, Charles Xavier was frowning. On either side of him, Hank and Logan watched the enormous screen with dark anticipation.

"I received this surveillance video from airport security just a few hours ago." Xavier's tone was reserved and grim. The large flat display brought to life a grainy resolution of a man approaching Rachel's Bentley.

"Any way to make that a little less impossible to decipher?" Logan requested sardonically, his arms crossed over his burly chest. Hank leaned in and and worked his magic on the computerized feed. The result was a frighteningly clear resolution of a handsome blond smiling as he loosened the gas cap, pushed a small white sphere into the gas tank and closed the cap back. Then the vandal closed the latch and walked away glancing around as if to make sure no one had seen him. Hank froze on a pane of the blond man's handsome face. His blue eyes were twinkling as if he were participating in some juvenile frat prank.

"Who is that?" Logan asked in a low growl, his eyes narrowing at the potential threat this man presented.

"Ben Gammon. Former chief engineer of Donivan Enterprise's Biochemical Division." Hank answered with a frown that matched the professor's. He'd had run ins with Gammon before, primarily when he'd been investigating Donivan Enterprises.

"And Rachel Wagner's ex-fiancé." Xavier replied through tight lips. "It was rumored he was the mastermind responsible for Cerebro's Alkali dopelganger." He stared at Ben's image frozen on the screen.

His mind drifted back to his first meeting with Rachel when her last name was still Donivan and she was barely two months pregnant with a mutant child. He had presented her with irrefutable evidence of Gammon's underhanded involvement in the Weapon X program. He'd been impressed with her courage and her strength of character. Sadly, he shook his head. Her baby's death had destroyed her; despite her outward appearance, she was a mere shadow of the strong woman she had once been.

They were all silent for a moment. But the wheels were turning in Hank McCoy's mind. Grabbing a pen and notepad out of his lab coat, he wrote out b-e-n-g-a-m-m-o-n. Beneath that he wrote, b-o-m-e-n-m-a-n-g, the name of Rachel's doctor. Then, he made straight, bold, criss crossing lines till all the letters were matched up. He stepped back, taking a deep breath.

"My stars and garters," he whispered.

* * *

"Go!"

"Hmm?" Daniel looked up from his club soda to see Rory's dark eyes looking at him admonishingly.

"I said, Go." Rory demanded, taking the drink from his partner's hands. "You're worried sick about Rachel and you're not going to be able to think about anything else till you check on her."

Daniel shook his head. "She's a big girl, Rory." He tried to take his drink back. "I'm not her nurse maid." He twisted his lips into an irritated expression. "We'll be running by to drop off those files after the party anyway."

"Yes, and you're going to be nothing but a wet blanket and worry wart till then," Rory insisted, holding the drink out of reach.

The larger man's shoulders slumped slightly. All around them, party goers happily mingled and chatted as medleys of Christmas tunes played in the background. He lifted his eyes to Rory's. For a long moment the two stared each other down. Daniel cried uncle first. "All right, I admit it! I'm worried about her."

"Then go check on her. Better yet, drag her skinny butt up, put her in something pretty and drag her back here." Rory gave Daniel a smile as they walked to the coat closet. "It'll do her some good!"

"And what are you going to do while I'm gone?" Daniel asked, digging for and retrieving his leather trench coat.

"Me?" the shorter brunette waggled his eyes. "I'm going to be flirting."

Daniel smirked and pulled Rory to him, whispering in his ear. "Just remember who brought you to the dance."

Rory couldn't help but laugh as he shoved his partner out the door into the freezing cold. "I'll save the last dance for you."

* * *

"I don't get it." Logan was the first to speak as the three were still staring at Hank's discovery. "Why the games? If he wanted Rachel, surely he's had the chance to snag her by now."

"It's not that simple, Logan." Hank offered in explanation. "Sociopathic predators often find a thrill from manipulating their prey. Controlling their victims, sometimes without the victim even being aware of it. For them, it's a game of domination. That would explain the nanobots in her system Who knows how long he's been controlling her in this manner?"

Xavier made a sound of discontent. "I'm afraid Hank is right." He reached out and turned off the screen. He already knew neither Kurt nor Rachel was on the campus grounds and that worried him greatly in light of this current discovery.

He reached his mind out further, trying to find that distinctive presence that was Kurt Wagner. Xavier had become all too familiar with the German mutant's mind during the time he'd used Cerebro to track him down after the White House assassination attempt. Suddenly, the professor's head snapped up in a rare moment of alarmed shock. "Take the jet and get to the city – now! I'll send you the coordinates." He was already wheeling himself towards the door.

"Professor!" Logan called, a dark frown on his rugged face. "What's wrong?" He gripped his hands in to tight fists.

Hank was already using the computer at his disposal to remotely prep the Blackbird for flight. He had worked with Professor Xavier for many years. "It's Nightcrawler isn't it?" He knew from the older man's body language that this was serious. Deducing with scarcely a whisper of doubt in his voice, he asked "Gammon has them?"

Xavier merely nodded. He kept his face in a tight mask of control as the three hurried out the door.

"Not for long." Logan promised with a predatory scowl, brandishing his claws out of reflex and making for the hangar.

* * *

He couldn't believe his luck. When Ben got to Rachel's building, he parked his black Mercedes in its usual spot in the alley behind her building. Coming in through the service entrance, he found Rachel and her mutant freak out cold in the Audi. Judging from the fact that the fumes from the broken window were barely detectable, they had sprung the trap set for Nightcrawler some time ago. Probably right after he'd left his office. Ben knew he had to work quickly to secure them both before they regained consciousness.

As he open the passenger door, Rachel's cell phone rang. He picked it up out of her purse and turned it off, not even bothering to look at the number. "We don't have time for interruptions," he muttered as he shoved it in his pocket, then picked the purse up and slung it over one shoulder.

Then, he quickly lifted Rachel's dead weight and carried her to his car, cradling her against him gently. He thought about the best place to put her, given that he now had two that he had to transport simultaneously. He'd been caught somewhat unprepared for this, but he'd just have to make do. Thank God he'd left the inhibitor collar in that freak's trunk, activated and tuned outward like a wireless fence. Otherwise, Nightcrawler might have gotten a teleport off before going under, and that would have just ruined Ben's Christmas.

Popping his trunk, Ben carefully lowered Rachel into the clean interior of it. He set her purse down beside her and reached into the gym bag he'd packed for this occasion. He took out a roll of duct tape and several zip ties. He set the zip ties aside; he'd save those for the freak.

"Shh...there, there, sweetheart." Ben cooed to an unresponsive Rachel. He leaned over her, stroking her dark hair and kissing her lips as she lay motionless beneath him.

"I'm sorry to have to do this, Rachel. But I can't risk you running away again." Quickly, he ripped off a short length of the silver-gray tape and covered Rachel's mouth with it. Then he bound her wrist and feet, being careful not to make her restraints too tight. He knew how easily she bruised.

"It's going to be all right, now." he promised. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. Not Cornelius, not Nightcrawler. Not anyone." He leaned down and stroked her cheek as she lay comatose. "I'm taking you home. In a few hours, it will be like we were never apart, I promise." With that he stepped back and closed the trunk, casting a sleeping Rachel into total darkness.

* * *

Daniel made his pilgrimage to Rachel's apartment, trying her cell and frowning deeply when he was sent straight to voice mail again. He remembered the emptiness in her voice and couldn't help but grip the steering wheel tighter. She _never_ turned her phone off. She might be too drunk to answer it, at times, but he'd never known her to just turn it off. He was quickly going from being afraid he'd find her passed out drunk, to _hoping _he'd find her passed out drunk. He nudged his sports car to go a little faster.

Daniel pressed his remote to unlock Rachel's garage gate. It slid back obediently and his white Jaguar made a low rumble as it passed under the low ceiling into the underground garage. The red head turned see Rachel's maroon car, then made a disgruntled sound. Kurt's car was also here...with the window busted out. He sighed; even in a locked garage, your car wasn't safe. He couldn't help but wonder why Kurt's car was here at all. What if he'd followed Rachel back here? A knot of worry grew in his stomach as her cell sent him back to voice mail once again. He gave up and shoved the phone in his coat pocket.

What if this Kurt guy was some kind of psycho nut case? Granted, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy when they'd had coffee a couple of nights ago, but Rachel was not known for having the best luck in men she dated. He wasn't sure what her romantic life had been like between the time they'd lost touch several years ago and when she'd called him up four months ago with a job offer. But, he shook his head as he remembered some of the real prize winners she'd gotten tangled up with in college.

He parked his car and got out to inspect the damage to the assaulted Audi. Frowning again he noted the passenger side door was ajar. As he got closer he made a deeper sound of disquiet. The majority of the glass from the driver's side was on the ground, not inside the car. Someone wasn't trying to get in...someone was trying to get _out_. Chills went up Daniel's spine.

He could smell an odd odor lingering in the air, getting a little stronger the closer he stood to the gold car. "Rachel?" He called out, his voice bouncing around the concrete structure. "Rachel, are you down here?" Daniel drew up, his mouth tightening into a expression of worry as he started towards the elevators. But before he got two steps, his peripheral vision caught the outline of a man in a shadowed corner, hurriedly dragging something to the service exit. His heart jumped to his throat as he noticed the lump being dragged was about the size of a person – maybe Rachel sized. Alarmed, he made a fast jog towards the stranger. _Rachel, what have you gotten yourself into?_

"Hey!" He called out in a voice that demanded attention. "What the Hell you got there, pal?"

The form looked up, cursing. "Just taking out the trash..." The voice held a faint stab of apprehension. He was lying and Daniel knew it. He easily outpaced the burdened stranger till he drew up on him. What he saw shocked him speechless.

The blond stranger was dragging a creature across the floor. It was bound by its wrists and ankles. It was the kind of thing Daniel had only seen in those cheesy horror movies he'd watched and the comic books he'd pilfered out of his brother's room as a kid. It was dark blue, almost invisible in the shadow, with trifingered hands and bird like feet. It was dressed in street clothes with some shiny high-tech looking dog collar around its neck. And - good God! Was that a _tail_ he saw?? At first, he could only gawk at this thing before he stepped back in alarm as it stirred within its confines.

"Dear God!" He exhaled when he finally got his voice. "What is it??"

"I don't know." The guy was nervous and wouldn't meet Daniel's eyes. "I caught it breaking the window in that car over there. I guess he was trying to steal it." A finger pointed in the direction of the assaulted Audi. "Knocked it out. I'm just gonna lock it up and call the police." He hefted the dead weight of the monster, trying to get a better hand hold.

One of Kurt's first observations about Daniel had been that he was not an idiot. Kurt was right. Even as Daniel's mind reeled at the sight of this-this _thing_, his clever brain was already pulling apart the story that had just been fed to him.

Caught him breaking into the car? No. There was shattered glass on the _outside_ of the car, not the inside. And why break the glass at all if the passenger door was open?

Knocked it out? Locking it up to call police? No way. You see something this scary, you don't drag it all the way across the garage. You scream and run like Hell. Let it have the damn car!

The obvious lies, combined with this guy's nervous manner and the odd smell coming from the car made it appear that – as unbelievable as it seemed – this demonic looking creature was somehow a victim of foul play. Daniel wagered his next move very carefully.

"Look...I got my cell phone on me. I'll call 911." He reached slowly towards his coat pocket.

"No!" Was the overly quick response. "I got it." The stranger pulled a cell phone out of his pocket with his free hand.

The cell phone he brandished was a black Vertu. That was an _expensive_ phone, Daniel mused. Not a lot of people could afford a techno-toy like that. The one Rachel had put her back about eight grand.

Daniel sat on the fence. Had the creature on the floor been a_ person_, he wouldn't even be hesitating to come to its aid. But, surely something that looked that evil had to be doing something that warranted the situation it was in. Still, his mind knew this nervous man in front of him was lying about something.

"Daniel..."

At first he thought he must have been hallucinating. Maybe the fumes from the car were messing with his head. Then he looked down at the creature tied up on the floor. Bleary yellow eyes looked up at him. It had called his name. Not only had it called his name, it called his name with Kurt Wagner's voice! No, that was impossible...

Before Daniel could rethink his logic, the other man dropped the burdensome creature and the cell phone as he reached in his waist band. Acting solely on instinct, Daniel lunged forward swiftly and grabbed for the other man's wrist. The two tangled for just a moment before Daniel lodged his shoulder against his opponent's chest and shoved him into the nearby wall. A pain filled cry spewed forth from his adversary as he desperately sought to pull his arm up. Daniel could clearly see a sidearm in the blond's grasp. Unsure if this deranged madman sought to shoot him, or the creature - or both, - Daniel grabbed the barrel and winced as the garage exploded with the sound of a gunshot. As the he attempted to fire again, the assailant found himself flipped backwards onto the ground as the bound creature swung its legs out and caught the gunman behind his unguarded knees. He sprawled on the floor; his back landing with a loud 'THUMP'. The gun flew from his fingers and clattered across the floor with a metallic scraping sound.

Scrambling to his feet, the defeated enemy made a desperate attempt to escape. A sucker punch to Daniel's face caught him by surprise. By the time Daniel was able to see again, the stranger was gone and he was left alone with the terrifying monster tied up at his feet. Quickly, Daniel recovered the Beretta left behind by his attacker.

Kurt laid on the floor, breathing deeply, trying to get the noxious gas out of his system. That swipe at Ben Gammon's knees was not the best offensive attack of his career, but under the circumstances, it would have to do. His mind was reeling as it tried to take in the sight of Ben Gammon alive and well. As his vision cleared a little, he saw a look on Daniel's face he'd become all too accustomed to. Terror.

"What are you?" Daniel demanded, training the gun directly between mutant's golden eyes. "Some kind of mutant freak?"

Kurt had no time for Daniel's stupidity or prejudice. "Where is Rachel??" he enjoined fiercely. Despite the wooziness that still plagued him, the blue furred mutant managed to roll up to a sitting position. He eyed the gun aimed at him and met Daniel's wild gaze steadily. "For God's sake Daniel, put that gun away before you shoot one of us!"

The next few moments wore by like hours as Daniel carefully considered all his options. Finally, he lowered the weapon, but made no move to release the mutant from his binds.

"Where is Rachel?" Kurt demanded insistently, craning his neck for any sign of her. The Audi's car door was wide open, but Rachel was not inside. Then he caught sight of the cell phone Ben had left behind. A black Vertu with _Donivan Enterprises_ scripted in elegant and impressive gold lettering along its leather back. He fought the flurry of panic that was threatening to overtake him. Mein Gott, he had her. The pit of his stomach roiled as the certainty fell on him.

Ben had taken Rachel.

* * *

Okey dokey! Hope everyone is enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing. Please, hit that review button and let me know what you think so far!! Thanks!


	22. Only in New York

X-nerd – Yes, you can take it! You're tough! Yes, Daniel should learn to appreciate mutants. This chapter hints at why he might feel the way he does. ;-)

Pyro – Absolutely! You have my blessing to smack Ben with a fish! A really BIG fish!!

Yzak – Nope, didn't die. Although I think he believed he was going to die for a minute!

Webs – Glad you approve and got some spine tingling out of that last chapter. And, yep, Daniel's pretty clever. Too bad he's so stupid when it comes to mutants. ;-)

* * *

Rachel moaned and tried to sit up, but could only manage to squirm a tiny bit. She tried to rub her hand over her face when she realized her hands were bound behind her back! In a knee jerk reaction, she tried to move her legs to have it revealed that they were also bound. An electric jolt of fear shot through her as she tried to clear her head. Where was she?? She screamed against the duct tape gag. Where was Kurt?? The last thing she remembered was sitting in his car when...she shook her head, still groggy and confused.

She gave into full fledged panic for a several seconds, then forced herself to calm down before she passed out. The gag not only kept her from calling for help, it also kept her from being able to breathe well. Her medical training kicked in as she reminded herself that if she didn't get her heart rate down, she'd most likely pass out again as all the oxygen in her system would be eaten up by her frenzied state. Forcing herself to take slow deep draws, she felt her heart calm down from terrified tattoo to a frightened thud. She rolled over on her back and pulled her legs up tentatively, trying to determine the parameters of her pitch black prison. Her knees touched the top of her small confines. She was in a box of some kind. A coffin? Fear flooded through her again as she fought to stay calm. No, not a coffin. Her nose detected the smell of carpet shampoo and she could feel the rough prickle of a polyester carpet against the back of her scalp. Outside, she could hear cars and she felt the momentum of movement beneath her. Was she in a car?

Her blurry eyes caught sight of something luminescent and for a split second she thought it was her Blue watching her. But, even in her drugged mind she knew it was the wrong color. The glow wasn't that soft, warm golden light she found comfort in every night. It was a tacky, harsh icy green color. An emergency release lever. That cemented her suspicions. She was in a car trunk. As her head began to clear, she pulled at her restraints, desperately trying to reach the lever to free herself.

Finally, her wrists burning and her legs cramping, she gave up and rested on her side. As she lay helpless, she pondered who was responsible for this? Had the Brotherhood finally decided to force her hand and 'persuade' her to turn over that list Magneto coveted so? She frowned in the dark. This really didn't seem their style. She was sure if they'd taken her, the whole affair would have been far more theatrical and daring. Rachel shook her head. Regardless of who did this or why, she doubted there was much time to plan her escape.

Just then, her fingertips brushed against something smooth behind her. As she squirmed to get a better feel, she realized it was her purse! If she could get to her cell phone, maybe she could at least call 911, the school, anybody! Even if she couldn't speak, the open line could be used to find her. For a few frustrating minutes she tried to access her bag with bound, blind hands before giving up. She couldn't do anything with her hands behind her back.

Taking as deep a breath as she could muster around her gag, Rachel made herself relax and bowed her back out while pushing her arms down as far as they would go. Thinking back, she remembered to her childhood summers spent with Kurt and Jemaine. Specifically to the summer they made up a game they called "Houdini" with Kurt, of course, as the master magician and Jemaine and Rachel as his beautiful assistants. Despite her dire straits, Rachel couldn't suppress a chuckle at the memory. Even then, the future aerialist had a flare for the stage.

For Jemaine, it had been just another excuse to play dress up. But Rachel had been fascinated by the inhuman flexibility that was already starting to manifest itself in Kurt's young body. No matter how the two girls had tied him up, that little limber daredevil _always_ managed to get loose! Rachel had been so impressed, she spent much of that summer trying to mimic Kurt. She did not understand then that, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to best his elasticity. Still, she had become quite the contortionist by that sad time in Autumn when the changing of the season signaled it was time for her to leave. The small moment of peace brought by her childhood memories shattered as her mind contemplated what might have happened to Kurt. If he wasn't here, where was he? _Dear God, please let him be all right,_ she prayed. _He's all I have left. I can't lose him. I just can't._ She fought tears and panic as she kept bending and twisting her body into unnatural positions.

Beads of sweat built up on her forehead, despite the chill in the quasi heated trunk. She thought wryly that it had been over twenty years since she'd tried this trick, and her bulky coat was making a difficult task nearly impossible. But slowly, her forearms passed around her slim hips. She tugged and pulled and squirmed until she managed to draw her bound feet through the tight loop of her arms. Suddenly, her hands were in front! With little oxygen reaching her brain, she had almost blacked out from the exertion. She reached her aching arms up and ripped the tape off her mouth with numb, awkward fingers, She gulped in air as she gave herself a minute to catch her breath.

As she lay there celebrating her small victory with some hard earned breaths of semi-fresh air, the dark haired Romani strained her ears. She listened to see if she could hear anyone talking in the interior of the car. But only silence greeted her. Suddenly, she was thrown forward as the car hit its brakes. She found herself smashed up against the back of the trunk. Desperately, Rachel prayed that no one was tailgating them too closely! A terrifying image a car rear ending them went through her mind as she stared at the icy green release lever that was her beacon. A few seconds later the car began rolling again.

With renewed purpose, Rachel curled her legs up towards her hands and felt for the raw edge of the tape binding her ankles together. She had to be able to run the very first chance she got. More tugging and squirming rewarded her with unencumbered feet. She flexed her legs, using them to brace herself against the auto's slight swaying. Thank God she had a strong constitution. In fact, the last time she'd vomited had been – she stopped short in despair.

The last time she'd thrown up was when she'd been in the throes of morning sickness just a couple of months ago. A tear escaped as she remembered having to hold her own hair back as she knelt over the toilet. When she'd been sick with Gracie, her Blue had done that for her. Whenever she'd made a mad dash for the the bathroom, he had been right there with kind words, holding her hair back and getting a cool wash clothe ready for her. Now _that_ was love. It was a simple gesture, done without prompting or expectation, but it spoke volumes.

She forced that bitter sweet memory away as she rolled over and scrambled for her purse. Desperately, in the pitch black, she ran her fingers over the cell holder and almost cried in dismay. It was gone. There was no other place she would have put it. Still, she thrust her hands in the bag with desperate, half hearted hope. Then, tears sprang to her eyes again as she accepted her cell had been taken. Of course! _What criminal mastermind would be stupid enough to lock someone up with their cell phone, _she chided herself.

After a few more seconds, Rachel pulled herself back together and turned her attention to getting her hands free. She licked her dry lips and used them to search around the tape trapping her hands, trying to find the end of it. She could taste the gummy adhesive on the raw edge as she bit at it. After a few tries, she managed to snag a corner of the edge and began to pull with her teeth. It was slow going as she disentangled her hands, but after an eternity, she was free of all her constraints and reached for the release latch. As soon as the car came to a stop she had to make a break for it. It might be the only chance she got. She couldn't help but chuckle again as her fingers encompassed the latch. The car salesman who'd delivered her Bentley made a point to showcase this particular feature in her own vehicle. At the time, she couldn't imagine who would be ever stupid enough to get themselves locked in a car trunk!

_Oh, the irony of it all._

* * *

"What have you done with Rachel?!" Daniel demanded of his captive. "Where is she?"

"What have_ I _done with her??" Kurt cried, his golden eyes flashing. He turned loose with some choice, rarely used German curses he kept for just such occasions, pulling on the ties that were beginning to bloody his wrists and ankles.

Finally, he got himself back under control. "Daniel, please. I know this is hard for you to understand." He took a deep breath. Every second that passed was another second Ben spent putting distance between them. He had to convince Daniel to help him. "But I am Kurt Wag-"

"Prove it." Daniel cut him off, still eying him warily. The gun, while not pointed at his head anymore, was still being waved about in a menacing manner.

Kurt ground his teeth so hard, he threatened to pierce his own lip with his canines. "Fine," he spat, ticking off the list. "You're name is Daniel. You and Rachel were friends in college, your partner's name is Rory. You live in Bourem Hills; you have a real wood fire place, coasters in the shape of famous buildings, a tankless hot water heater and the cleanest, most anal retentive basement I've ever seen in my life!" Kurt spewed in one hot, angry breath as he glared up at his rescuer. "And every second we sit here debating is another second the _real_ monster is getting further away with Rachel!"

But Daniel still stood in mute indecision.

"Look!" Kurt demanded sternly, nodding his head at the abandoned cell phone laying a few feet away. "That's Rachel's cell phone."

Leaning down, Daniel picked up the cell his attacker had left behind. Glancing away from his prisoner for a mere second, he frowned at the lettering. It was indeed Rachel's cell. He felt a stab of panic as he locked eyes with this demonic mutant again. What should he do? What if he let this creature go? It might kill him without a second thought. But what if he didn't and Rachel, one of his truest friends, suffered because of it?

Daniel looked back at the cell then back at the mutant. After several more long moments, he shoved the gun into the waist of his trousers, pocketed Rachel's cell and retrieved his Swiss Army knife. He said a silent prayer that he was making the right decision as he knelt down and cut the demon loose.

Kurt couldn't help but gasp in relief as blood began flowing into his extremities again. As soon he regained some feeling in his feet, he stood up. The motion was so liquid and graceful, it appeared that gravity had almost no hold at all over the limber acrobat.

His tail coiled madly as he tried to think where Ben would have taken Rachel. Just then he head a familiar beep coming from his pants pocket that made Daniel jump and reach for his commandeered weapon again.

The Xman eyed Daniel's itchy trigger finger warily, careful not to make any sudden moves. "Mind if I answer this?" he asked with a slight smile, slowly reaching into his pocket. He retrieved his X-comm and gingerly held it up to show the wary human, in least threatening way possible, that there was no reason for alarm.

Once activated, a smooth, welcomed voice of help spoke. "Kurt!" came the feminine voice on the line. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Storm, but Rachel's been taken!" Kurt exclaimed. His mind was still somersaulting at the notion of Gammon being alive.

"We're coming up on your position," she announced and almost simultaneously, Kurt could hear the vague sound of the Blackbird in her stealth mode circling for a landing. He tilted his head to one side as he listened. To the untrained ear, the hum of her power cells would only sound like a quiet vibration. Daniel gave absolutely no indication that he heard anything out of the ordinary.

Seconds later, members of Kurt's team burst onto the scene. Daniel nearly lept out of his skin at the sight of Beast. Two monstrous creatures in one night, surely he'd slipped on a patch of ice and was, at this very moment, laying on the sidewalk, suffering a delusion inducing concussion. Shock and dismay aside, Daniel couldn't help but note that this group moved with the precision of a trained military unit. Setting up a perimeter, scanning the area for hostiles and attempting to administer first aid.

Kurt waved away Hank's attempt to ascertain the extent of the injuries on his abused wrists. "We have no time for this."

"Just let me look-" the larger furred mutant insisted with a bristle of irritation, attempting to open his med kit.

"I've had _far_ worse," was the hot reply and Hank, reluctantly, backed away.

Kurt turned an eye to Logan. "Ben Gammon is still alive. He's kidnapped Rachel."

"Yeah, we just got the video feed from the airport. It was Gammon who sabotaged Rachel's car," the shorter mutant growled. "And yours too from the smell of it." The feral, using his incredibly heightened senses, sniffed the slight remnants of the noxious fumes leaking from the Audi. As if seeing the red headed stranger for the first time, he narrowed his eyes in Daniel's direction. "Who the Hell are you?"

"Who the Hell am _I_?" Daniel snapped. "Who the Hell are _you_? And who the Hell is Ben Gammon? And why would he kidnap Ray?" His evening had gone from being a pleasant night on the town with his beloved partner to a nightmare of assaults and abductions...and mutants.

Despite his frantic hurry to fetch Rachel back, Kurt stepped in, trying to be diplomatic. "Daniel, these are friends of mine – and Rachel's." He motioned around to each one in turn. "Storm." he flourished an oddly shaped hand towards the exotic beauty who held herself like a queen. "Beast." The massive blue furred mutant nodded in a dignified manner. "And, Wolverine." There was only cold, stoic silence as Wolverine sized this human stranger up.

"This is Daniel-" he stopped short. It suddenly occurred to him he had no idea what his last name was.

"Cornelius." Daniel obliged grudgingly. "Daniel Cornelius."

* * *

Rachel felt the car brakes being applied as inertia attempted to roll her towards the back of the trunk again. She held onto the latch with one hand and hugged her purse to her chest with the other. It felt stupid to be worried about her purse, but it was hers damn it, and they couldn't have it! Besides, there were things in there. Precious things that she couldn't bear to lose.

She felt her heart beating so wildly she thought it might burst through her ribs like the monster in Alien. The last time she'd been this scared, she had been hiding in a back alley in Boston. Stryker had come for her and Kurt and their child. Hiding had done her no good. She had been captured, 'detained' and 'processed' into her cell at Alkali Lake, just as Kurt was a few days later. He had a chance to escape but wouldn't. He'd refused to abandon her and Gracie. The terror and helplessness she'd felt then began welling back up in her. _Please, God. Please, if you never listen to me again, listen now. Please let Blue be all right. Please. _She blinked away more tears and loosened the death grip on her purse long enough to rub her wedding ring for comfort.

Then, in a sudden burst of raw emotion, Rachel grabbed the ring and yanked hard at the chain tethering it to her neck. The clasp gave way under the stress with little protest. In the dark of her prison, Rachel released the lever long enough to take her wedding ring and slide it back onto her finger – where it belonged. For a second she took in the solid feel of the plain gold band.

The symbolic move seemed to make her braver and as the wheels slowed to a stop, Rachel knew it was now or never. Taking a deep steadying breath, she lunged into action. Clutching her purse for dear life in one hand, she yanked the lever down with other. As the trunk lid popped open, Rachel shoved her body out into the open, she suddenly found herself at an unfamiliar intersection.

Her breath escaping in plumes of icy condensation, she turned her head this way and that, frozen by indecision – which way should she run?? For a split second she just stood there in the headlights of a car that had stopped behind her abductors' vehicle. The driver honked his horn.

"Hey lady!! Move your ass! Get the Hell outta the street!!" More horn blowing. Jerking back to her senses, Rachel jumped and broke off in a full fledged sprint. She pumped her long legs as fast as they'd carry her. _Only in New York could someone pop up out of a car trunk in the middle of traffic and get that kind of reaction!_ She thought wildly as she zig zagged through the cars stopped at the light. Behind her she heard a man yelling angrily and more horns honking. Undoubtedly her kidnapper, or kidnappers, had noticed her dash for freedom and were in pursuit. But she didn't dare look back. She put her head down and just kept running.

* * *

OK folks - I see you all reading out there! Time to that magic button and let me know what you're thinking!

Thanks!


	23. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Webbs – Thanks for the Beta! Yes, Danny, like all good southern boys ALWAYS carry a pocket knife of some kind. But he's not near brave enough to steal Elise's!

X-nerd – Glad you approve! Hope you like this one as well. :-)

Yzak – LOL! Holy crap indeed!

Fallen – Thanks for reviewing again! Rachel got a head start, but now what??

* * *

Daniel stared around the darkened room. His mind was still spinning. The X-men?? He studied each of them in turn as they methodically picked apart Dr. Bomenmang's office. Beautiful Storm, the team's leader, was calmly putting away her lock picks. Beast was breaking through one security feature after another on the office's computer. Wolverine was outside stalking the perimeter of the building, looking for signs that someone had recently come or gone. And the demon, Rachel's "friend", was searching the room for any clue to help them find her.

The tall, athletically built Southerner ran a hand through his shock of red hair. What had Rachel gotten herself into? Had Ben Gammon really kidnapped her? Was her shrink, Dr. Bomenmang in cahoots with him?? This team of mutant super heroes believed so. In fact they were so convinced of it that they'd broken in to the psychiatrist's office and were in the process of meticulously dismantling the place until they proved their theory.

Daniel knew Rachel had been engaged; it had been in _all_ the papers. A woman in Rachel Donivan's social position gets attention when she decides to tie the knot. Looking back, he recognized the man who'd tried to kill him as the same handsome blond who'd stood with an arm around Rachel in the engagement photos plastered in the Lifestyle sections of the Atlanta papers and even a few national magazines. Rory subscribed to all those. Daniel followed the story simply because he was happy for her. It seemed that, from all outward appearances, Rachel had finally found her Prince Charming. He rubbed his bruised jaw. Prince Charming, indeed.

The daughter of Donivan Enterprises' CEO and the Australian born MIT grad had made quite the power couple. The gossip columnists were buzzing for weeks after she'd called off the engagement a week before the wedding. But she'd never mentioned it, and Danny never brought it up. That was just how their friendship had always worked. A "don't ask, don't tell" policy if ever there was one.

"Daniel, can you help me with this?" Kurt called out. He tugged at the huge bookcase. It was flush with the wall, but crouching low, he could see the smooth patterns in the carpet were disrupted in front of the case, indicating that it had been moved very recently. The blue mutant's spaded tail, almost unconsciously, fidgeted with his inhibitor again. Feeling like he couldn't breathe, he pulled at the metallic choker, his trefoiled hands simultaneously repulsed from it and drawn to it, like a scar he couldn't stop touching. This damnable collar zeroed out nearly all of his abilities. His teleportation, night vision, ability to cling to surfaces – everything was neutralized. It was far more elaborate than the two he'd worn previously, and escape proof as far as Hank had been able to determine. They'd be able to take a closer look at it when the team returned to the mansion, but he was not returning to the school until they found his wife. He'd just have to live with the inhibitor till then. In the back of his mind he remembered Rachel dismantling the first collar he'd been graced with; perhaps she would be able to help free him from this one as well.

Daniel lent his strength but the enormous bookcase wouldn't budge. They both frowned. "It's part of the wall!" Daniel exclaimed with sudden understanding. "A hidden door?" He followed Kurt's lead, running his fingers in and around the many books and nick knacks looking for the secret latch that would swing it open - just like in the movies.

"Gammon is an engineering genius," Beast commented to the two. He nodded toward the computer he finally held sway over. "My intuition tells me that the 'key' to that door is in here somewhere."

Storm started to reply when Kurt's X-comm went off again. Frowning, he checked it, then held it to his ear frantically when he recognized the incoming signal.

"Mein Gott, Rachel!" he cried. "Where are you??"

* * *

The church had definitely seen grander days, Rachel decided as she shoved the heavy front door open and hurried inside. The sound of a choir rehearsing somewhere in the back had led her to this little Catholic church like the Star of Bethlehem had led the Wise Men. But instead of searching a newborn king, she was just looking for a phone and a place to hide.

Beneath the festive Christmas tapestries, there was clear evidence of peeling plaster and water damage that was hard to overlook as Rachel quickly scanned the area for signs of life. She imagined she could hear the footfalls of her pursuers on her heels.

Swiftly dipping her fingers into the font, she crossed herself and genuflected more out of habit than devotion, before entering the sanctuary. She raced past the pews towards the back of the altar and hopefully towards the priest's office or perhaps a priest himself.

Then, in a moment that would have been sitcom material - if she'd not been running for her life - Rachel stumbled over the lip of a carpet runner in the aisle. Unceremoniously, she flipped forward and cracked her head against the worn oak floor.

Father O'Toole stepped around the altar adjusting his robes. "Hello?" he called out, certain he'd heard a commotion in the sanctuary. He was about to decide he needed his hearing checked again when he spotted a figure sprawled face down in the aisle. Frantically, he rushed to the fallen woman's aid.

Rachel stared down at the pattern of the frayed carpet and dazed out for a moment. Closing her eyes, she floated to Bay Village, Boston. Stryker was ending Keja's life with a bullet while Rachel watched. Like a kite caught in a breeze, she floated further away towards more pleasant memories. It was a hot summer day at the swimming hole in Germany. She was teasing Blue in those ridiculously tiny scraps of fabric she called a bikini. His tail was playing naughty games with her, out of sight, under the water's surface.

Rachel felt herself being rolled over. She heard a man's voice from far away and tried to open her eyes. A blurred image of priestly vestments filled her range of vision as someone loomed over her. She tried to speak, but the effort took more than she could muster. Instead, she closed her eyes again and prayed for safety in this place.

Father O'Toole picked up the surprisingly slight woman and carried her out of the sanctuary. In his office, he laid the stranger down on the old, lumpy sofa. She came to briefly, then faded back out again. Taking a peek through her purse, the priest tried to find someone he could call for her. She had no ID on her, but he did find a prescription bottle with a phone number on it.

"Dr. Edward Bomenmang," he muttered, picking up the phone.

* * *

The black BMW circled the area like a shark looking for its prey as Ben searched for Rachel. He'd been crisscrossing the streets and alleys in his car trying to find his little runaway. He gave an irked snarl as his cell rang that turned into an odd frown. The incoming number was not one he recognized.

"Hello?" he spoke through his blue tooth, keeping both hands on the wheel. All the while he kept a sharp eye out for the dark haired escapee.

"Is this Dr. Bomenmang?"

"Yes, it is," he lied without batting an eye. For months he'd been carrying on this charade with Rachel. It had taken a lot of self control and cold showers to keep himself from pouncing on her while she'd been baring her soul in teary eyed confessions to his image induced alter ego. But despite the lust she brought up in him, having her open up to him had actually been one of the most fun parts of this whole game.

"This is Father O'Toole from Holy Trinity on Sackett Street. I found a young woman unconscious in our sanctuary. She doesn't have any ID, but there was a prescription bottle in her purse with your name on it. According to the bottle, her name is Rachel Wagner. Is she a patient of yours?

"Yes, Father," he cried, making a death defying U-turn against oncoming traffic and heading back a few blocks. "I've been trying to find her. I'm just a few blocks away. If she comes to, just let her know I'm on my way. Don't let her leave." Ben hung up and gripped the steering wheel excitedly. _Gotcha!_

* * *

Rachel moaned as she pulled herself back into the present. Gingerly, she put a hand to her forehead and felt the large goose egg rising up under her scalp. She stared around, then sighed in relief at the priest who was just getting off the phone.

"Mrs. Wagner?" he asked, noting the wedding band on her finger. He hung the phone up and took a chair next to her.

Rachel winced in pain as she nodded her head slightly. But, despite the ache, she couldn't suppress the tiny smile that emerged from being called 'Mrs. Wagner', again. "Where am I?" she ventured, alternately fingering her husband's ring and her aunt's bracelet.

"Holy Trinity," the priest smiled. The beginnings of crow's feet crinkled the corners of his eyes, and laugh lines bore out the true age of his, otherwise, youthful face. Despite the deplorable condition of the building itself, he was proud of his little parish. This church had provided a home to many people in the community for decades. It made him all the more sad that this would be their last Christmas Mass here. The inability to pass their building inspection last month had been the final nail in the coffin. He didn't know where his parishioners were going to go. But - despite the bleak certainty of this church's future - until the city pad locked the doors, in his heart, Nathaniel O'Toole would keep praying for a miracle.

"I called your doctor," he offered, holding her medicine out to her. She took it from him. "He's coming to pick you up."

"Thank you, Father." she answered, taking the orange bottle, her ever trembling fingers causing the pills inside to rattle. She pushed herself upright onto the sofa. The office was like everything else she'd seen of this church – clean, loved and worn out. It was entirely unlike the church she'd attended as a child where donations from wealthy families like hers had bank rolled countless renovations.

Just then Father O'Toole heard his name being called. Mass would be starting soon and he wasn't even dressed yet. He stood and made a welcoming gesture. "We will be having Christmas Mass. We'd love for you to celebrate with us if you're able."

Rachel smiled. "Thank you, but I'm just going to wait here for Dr. Bomenmang." There were still bad guys out there somewhere trying to get their hands on her. And she realized that, without Kurt, she really didn't want to go. Sometimes she got the sneaking suspicion that her adherence to their Faith was rooted in devotion to her husband, not to God.

It figured. Her mother only converted to please her father. And while Rachel had been baptized as a Christian when she was an infant, Rawnie and Lumi had both made sure, as a child, she was exposed the mysticism that surrounded their ancient sect of Roma culture. Elements of both faiths often left her uncomfortable and at odds with herself.

"Well, if you change your mind, don't hesitate to pull up a pew," Father O'Toole smiled without judgment and stepped out the door.

After he'd left, Rachel pulled her bag into her lap and tossed her pills back in. When she did, she caught sight of a gleam inside. Pulling it out, she nearly cried aloud. Kurt's communicator!! All this time it was in her purse! She'd have slapped her forehead if it wasn't hurting so much already.

Immediately, she pressed the top button and prayed she would hear a Germanic accent on the other end. She studied her wedding ring intently for a second before her call was answered by a frantic Kurt Wagner.

"Mein Gott, Rachel!" he cried. "Where are you??" His voice demanded an immediate answer. "Are you safe??"

Rachel nearly broke down in tears of relief at the sound of his voice. "Yes, Blue, I'm fine. I'm at Holy Trinity Church," she answered, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Where are you? What happened? Are you OK?" There were so many questions to be answered.

"I am fine, Liebe," he assured her. "Stay where you are. We are coming for you."

Rachel's grateful smile could have lit up a room. When he wasn't being her clown, he was her knight in shining armor. "Alright, but Dr. Bomenmang is coming to get me. I-"

"What?" His voice, like a lead weight being dropped, cut her off before she could form a reply. "Liebe, listen to me. Do NOT go anywhere with that man. He is not what he pretends to be." Kurt's voice was so intense and guttural in her ear, Rachel felt her heart begin to pound with an unexplained fear. "Stay where you are and keep this signal open, we are on our way. Do you understand?" It sounded as though he was already heading out the door.

"Yes, Blue, but what's going on?" she was as confused as she was frightened.

"I'll explain as soon as I get there," he promised.

Rachel started to demand a more definitive answer when the church office door opened, revealing a tall, rounded elderly chap, wearing a great comforting smile.

"Dr. Bomenmang." Rachel felt her heart go to her throat with Kurt's warning in her head. Discreetly, she slipped her X-comm back into her purse.

He stepped inside making a comforting gesture, "Rachel, I came as soon Father O'Toole called." Motioning for her to stand, he continued. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Rachel drew her purse up to her chest like a security blanket. "I appreciate it, Dr. Bomenmang, but Kurt is coming to get me." She worked to keep her voice as calm as possible. "I-I need to wait for him."

"Nonsense." He waved away her objection. "I'm here now, let me take you home." He noticed her discomfort. "Is something wrong?" he frowned, a worried expression spreading across his bearded face.

"No," she answered too quickly. "It's just been a terrible night."

He gently but firmly pulled the woman to her feet. "Well, I should think so," he answered with a soothing smile. "Being kidnapped - and on Christmas Eve of all times." He led her towards the door.

"How do you know that?" Rachel asked, backing away from his grasp.

"Know what?" he shook his head, his smile still firmly in place, although his arms were going stiff.

"Who told you someone tried to kidnap me?" she heard her blood raging in her ears as the lump on her head throbbed in rhythm with her rapid pulse.

"Father O'Toole." Bomenmang started towards her with a determined expression, "Now, no more questions Rachel. It's time to go home."

"Don't touch me!" she cried, pulling away from his advance. She hadn't told the priest about her nightmarish experience either. She felt panic rising inside her like the surge of a giant wave. "If you come any closer, I'll scream!" she threatened, still backing away.

"Well! And you said that blue monkey was the only one who could make you scream," came the snarl of a response.

Rachel eyes were at odds with her brain as she fit the pieces of puzzle together and stared at a terrifying picture. For a second she was standing back in the tunnels under Alkali Lake taunting Ben Gammon into losing his temper by brazenly boasting what a fantastic lover her Blue was.

"No, it can't be..." she whispered, shaking her head in desperate disbelief. But that wave of panic crashed down and her worst fears were confirmed as the quiet whirl of an image inducer revealed Dr. Bomenmang for what he truly was.

The tall, handsome blond smiled as if he'd just pulled off the greatest practical joke of all time.

"Miss me, Barbie doll?"


	24. Up on the Roof Arose Such a Clatter

X-nerd – Thanks! Yes, I am a little evil, but only for dramatic effect! And, well, I don't know about whacking Ben over the head, but how about the bit of action in this chapter??

Webbs – LOL – glad you liked that chapter so well! Yes, Elise should TOTALLY get her hands on Ben!

Fallen – So happy you liked it! Yes, well Barbie indeed. I think she would really be Barbie's dark haired friend Meg though, right. :-P

Meadowlark – Welcome and thanks for the reviews on Gypsy and on this chapter. I really appreciate it! No, subtlety isn't my strong point most days. Just ask Xnerd and Webbs. :) Please feel free to review again!

Missy Sue – Welcome to you also and thanks for the review. So glad that chapter made you laugh! :)

* * *

_Barbie Doll._

That was the pet name Ben had given her when they first started dating. Back when his slight Aussie accent made her smile at being called a 'Barbie.' Before she knew what a monster he truly was. Terrified and shaking her head in denial, the dark haired Romani retreated until the back of her legs hit the desk in the small office. Her hands went up in front of her, as if trying to ward him off. "No-" she whispered.

"Come with me Rachel," he ordered firmly, extending his hand towards her. "It's time to go home." He took a threatening step forward, closing the space between them.

Rachel drew herself up and used the only weapon she had. Drawing a breath, she screamed for all she worth. But her blood curdling shriek was quickly silenced as Ben slapped his large hand over her mouth. He reached with the other hand to pull her to him. Acting on pure instinct, Rachel twisted her head free and sank her teeth deep into the fleshy part of her attacker's hand. There was the metallic taste of blood in her mouth – _his_ blood for a change.

Now it was Ben's turn to howl. He turned loose of her and clutched his bleeding hand close to him. Rachel used that second of distraction to act. Bringing her leg up, she kneed him in the groin as hard as she possibly could. Ben collapsed like a pile of bricks, landing on his side and yelping in pain. He was holding himself with one hand, the other hand bleeding profusely. He spewed a combination of threats and profanities at her as he glared up from the floor. Spinning around, Rachel made a break for it. Ben's uninjured hand snaked out and snagged the hem of her long coat but she easily wriggled out of it as she bolted for the door.

Racing down the short corridor, Rachel's tennis shoes made frantic sounds against the black and white tiles of the hallway. She found an open door that revealed set of service stairs leading upwards. Barely sparing a glance over her shoulder, Rachel plunged forward, bounding up the steps two at a time. She stopped briefly at the door on every landing, but each one was locked tight. By the time she reached the top landing, she was desperate. Her vision blurred and she couldn't ignore the throbbing in her head as she pulled at the very last door.

_Please, God, please open._ She prayed, and gave a gasp of relief as it creaked ajar for her. The room beyond was a giant space filled with a clutter of odds and ends that had built up over the years. Dormer windows let light into the otherwise dark room. Obviously, this was the attic. But there was nowhere to hide - and no other exit. Realizing she had just painted herself into a corner, Rachel fought panic as she wrapped her arms around herself and watched her breath curling up in front of her in the dim light. She spun around towards the door as she heard the bottom stairwell door open.

"Blue, please hurry," she whispered desperately.

* * *

Ben made his way up the stairwell as quickly as he could, given the amount of pain Rachel had put him in. That ungrateful bitch! When he got his hands on her he'd-. He made himself stop and calm down for a second. This wasn't Rachel's fault. Not really. She had been poisoned against him, against her entire species. He could fix her, make her well again, and he would. But, right now, he had to concentrate on finding her and getting out of here before Nightcrawler and his fellow freaks showed up.

The only door unlocked was at the very top of the stairs. It opened into what had to be the attic. It was freezing up here! He scanned the room for signs of Rachel, but the only thing he found out of the ordinary was a dormer window that had been left slightly ajar. He made his way to it and pulled it closed. He was certain he'd heard Rachel open the stairwell door. So where was she? Locking the window, he turned back towards the empty attic.

Shivering with cold, Rachel straddled the steep gabled roof of the dormer window. Her legs dangled over either side and her chest was pressed against the rough singles. The wind and ice froze her into numbness in seconds. She held her breath as she heard Ben just below her, fidgeting with the window. She pressed her ear to the icy roof, listening the creaking exit door open. After another minute of silence from inside, the bitter cold started forcing her to dare a glance back inside. Edging off the top of the dormer, Rachel clung to the shingles, trying desperately not to think about how high up she was. Between fear and the elements she felt her completely frozen. And with no coat or winter gear of any kind, she knew she would be risking frostbite to stay out here much longer.

But as she eased her way back onto the roof, her feet hit a patch of ice. In a split second, she was careening down the steep pitch of the roof towards the edge. The breath knocked out of her, she couldn't even scream as she tumbled downward. A blind hand snapped hold of a vent pipe near the brink of the roof as her legs swung wide over the edge. The force of the stop slung her aunt's bracelet off her free hand. Helplessly she watched it roll off the roof's ledge and disappear down onto the street below. With all the strength she had in her frozen hands, Rachel gripped the pipe and tried to pull herself up, kicking her feet against the eave of the roof, but her legs couldn't find enough purchase to help push herself up and her arms simply weren't strong enough to pull her entire body weight up. Then she made the mistake of looking down. If she'd had any composure left, it evaporated as the six story drop loomed beneath her like the jaws of an enormous beast.

* * *

Kurt clutched his rosaries, tucked safely away in his pocket. Daniel's Jaguar roared as it was pressed to go faster. Fortunately, he folded up quite nicely in the back, as his agility and limberness were impossible for the inhibitor to block out. From the tiny backseat, he watched the street scream by. Daniel and Logan sat in tense silence.

For the hundredth time, Daniel stole a glance in his rear view mirror at the fear inspiring mutant in the back. He still could not comprehend Rachel, of all people, being involved with it-him. Then he remembered her track record from college and Kurt made perfect sense.

"Kurt," the red head finally spoke, speeding up through a light that was yellow going to red. He kept his eyes on the road. "Does Rachel know that you're-" he stopped short, hoping he didn't actually have to come out and say it.

"That he's what?" Logan growled. "German?"

"You know what I mean." Daniel quipped back, gripping the wheel even tighter.

Kurt was silent for a moment. He released his Rosaries, the ones Rachel had gifted to him, and gazed intently at his freakish hands. "She knows what I am," he finally answered in a firm, quiet voice.

There was no more time for small talk as the car skated crazily around the corner bringing the church into sight. Screeching to a stop in the side alley, the exotic car let loose a heaving sigh, whirling litter up around it as its exhaust breathed out heavily.

Wolverine grunted, flinging open the door and rolling out. Kurt twisted with grace and ease, exiting the car and standing beside his friend. He touched the crucifix that had worked its way out of his shirt and shone brightly in the lamp light of the alley. A silent prayer went up that they were not too late. Then his fingers glided across the smooth surface of the inhibitor at his neck, as he pulled his scarf and coat tighter against the freezing cold.

As the trio headed around the corner, Daniel grabbed Kurt by the arm and pulled him back into the shadows of the building. "Where do you think you're going?"

Kurt gave a genuinely confused expression. Then looked down at himself. Yes, where did he think he was going?

"Hate to admit it, Elf," Wolverine grit his teeth, "but the kid's right." He put a hand on Nightcrawler's shoulder in a kind of comforting pat.

For a moment, Daniel's expression became compassionate. "This won't take but a second. We'll go in, get her and be right back out. You wait here."

Kurt's mouth thinned into a tight line, his eyes, narrow vexed slits. "Fine." He agreed and nodded his head stiffly. "Hurry." It shouldn't be this way. He put his life on the line constantly to protect those who wouldn't even allow him to worship in their presence. He forced his thoughts away from things that would only make him angry and leaped on the hood of the white Jag while Daniel and Logan disappeared around the corner

His ears perked up at an odd sound. It sounded like something rolling and scraping. He crawled down off the car and peered around, looking for the source of the sound. At that moment, a small object pinged off the Jag's gleaming white paint job and landed at Kurt's feet. Frowning, he picked it up and felt his heart in his throat. The bracelet was golden with intricate carvings in an ancient Roma dialect.

His head instinctively shot upward and the heart that had been in his throat, fell to the ground. Even without his night vision, he could clearly see a pair of jean clad legs swinging precariously off the edge of the roof. He'd know those long legs anywhere.

"Rachel!" he cried out, leaping straight the eight feet to the fire escape. In seconds, he'd climbed all the way to the roof, "Oh, Gott in Himmel!!" he breathed as he saw his wife hanging onto a pipe for dear life, just one slip away from falling over the edge.

* * *

Father O'Toole's robes flew behind him as he rushed towards the sound of the screaming coming from his office. As he rounded the corner, he was almost bowled over by two unfamiliar men. One dressed in street clothes, the other in a black uniform of some kind.

"Padre!" Logan coughed, catching the priest before he fell. He looked around, trying to catch Rachel's scent. "We're lookin' for -"

"Walk with me!" Father O'Toole motioned, rushing down the harshly lit hall way. Whatever they were looking for, they could tell him on the way. With hurried manners, he stuck out his hand as he walked. "Father Nate O'Toole."

"Daniel." Daniel took his hand and shook it, never breaking his stride. Wolverine declined to give his name, field or otherwise.

Logan and Daniel raced on the good Father's heels, exchanging worried expressions. When they reached the parish office, Father O'Toole reached down and picked up Rachel's abandoned coat. He looked this way and that way as if she'd magically appear.

The three were standing in a quandary trying to figure out where Rachel and Dr. Bomenmang had gone. Then they were drawn back out into the hallway, at the sound and the service stairs door being flung open. There, in all his glory, stood Ben Gammon. Seeing Daniel's face, Ben took off in a mad run. Daniel yelled after him and gave chase. Not to be left out, Logan was right behind him, leaving a very confused, fretful priest in their wake. He stood still holding Rachel's coat in his hands. After a moment, he made his way to the stairway. What had the blond stranger been looking for up there. From somewhere above him, he heard a commotion.

"Hello??" he called up the stairwell, then, taking a risk he'd be late for Mass, Father O'Toole began to climb the stairs.

* * *

Very carefully, Kurt crawled the twenty feet to Rachel, slipping occasionally on a patch of ice. He cursed the collar over and over. Of _all_ the times to be without his abilities!

After what seemed like an eternity, he braced his birdlike feet against the pipe Rachel was clinging to and grabbed her frozen hands in his. They both gave a start as their combined weight caused the rickety brackets holding the pipe to the building screeched in protest. Her eyes were completely focused on him as he quickly pulled her from the edge. She was shaking with cold and fear as she buried her face in his chest. The two leaned back against the roof, taking some of their weight off the substandard pipe as it groaned a little more. If it gave way, there would be little between them and the ground.

Quickly, he unbuttoned his coat and wrapped both of them together, using his body heat to try to warm her up. She was cold as ice! How long had she been up here??

"Oh, thank God," Rachel whispered over and over, through chattering teeth, in a heartfelt mantra. She felt soft fur under his shirt against her cheek and smelled that slightly pungent, earthy scent that was unique to her Blue. With his arms around her, though still terrified, she knew was safe now. "Please, Blue," she begged. "Please get us down from here."

"I will," he promised, hugging her tight. "Don't worry, you're safe now," he whispered under the wind, reiterating her thoughts.

A sob escape the woman in his arms. "It was Ben!" she cried. "It was him! He's here. Oh, God. He's alive, Blue. How is he still alive?" She sounded as though she might hyperventilate.

Kurt felt Rachel clutching his shirt in her frozen hands as he tried to calm her. "I don't know Liebe, but Daniel and Logan are here. We will find him," he promised with a sound that closely resembled a growl. Shifting slightly, he craned his neck to see the dormer windows above them. "Do you think you can make that climb?" He motioned up the steep roof.

Rachel twisted her head upwards to look in his face. "Can't you teleport us?" Her voice was almost pleading, then frowned as she made out a hard lump underneath the scarf at her Blue's neck. Wriggling her fingers free of the warm coat she was cocooned in, she pulled the scarf aside enough to see an inhibitor collar tight around his throat. She felt a quivering cry escape from her as tears welled up. "Oh God, Blue," she whispered, sick to her stomach. A primal part of her wanted to rip the collar off him. But she knew all too well that this particular inhibitor collar would explode and kill them both if anyone tried to remove it, other than the person who put it on him. "I'm sorry…" Her tears were freezing on her face as she cried at the sight of her Blue enslaved in that device.

"Shh, Schatz." Kurt comforted her, rocking her slightly. "It's all right. One thing at a time. First we get off the roof, then we get this collar off, agreed?" As she nodded up at him and he smiled back with more confidence than he actually felt. Covering his collar back up, he studied the steep roof top that lay between them and the window.

With a determined grimace, Kurt shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it completely around Rachel. The cold was unbelievable! His fine velvety fur gave him some protection, but they had to get out of this weather soon. Gritting his teeth as they started to chatter, he released the pipe altogether and rose to a crouch with careless grace. He lent Rachel his hand and she managed to crawl beside him.

She didn't even try to argue about the coat. It was pointless to argue with her Blue about his chivalrous ways. Slowly, the pair crawled up the steep roof. At one point, Kurt lost his footing and threatened to tumble down. But Rachel's hand shot out and grabbed hold of his tail.

"Danke, Liebe." Kurt nodded, taking a shaky breath. Righting himself and regaining his footholds, he frowned. So that was what it felt like – to be afraid of falling. He vowed to stop teasing Rachel about her phobia.

"It's all right, Blue." She tried to smile and ignore the mental image in her mind of Kurt careening down the steep roof and over the edge.

Both slipped a few more times, but eventually, they reached the dormer window. Kurt broke out the glass with his elbow and the half frozen couple crawled into the attic with grateful hearts. Without the wind blowing over them, they were already feeling warmer. Rachel started to pull off Kurt's coat. Chivalry should only have to go so far. But, Kurt stoutly yanked it back around his Liebe's shoulders, then pulled her close. Trembling, Rachel buried her head in Kurt's chest.

"Thank God you're safe," he whispered fiercely, trying not to tear up. The thought of Ben Gammon taking Rachel from him was more than he could stand. He pulled back and examined her more closely. "Did he hurt you??" He gave her a once over, noting the knot under her scalp and the sticky remnants of duct tape on her wrists.

"I'm fine, Blue," she assured him, stroking his cheek. "You can't toss me in a trunk and expect me to stay there." She tried to make light of her terrifying ordeal.

"How did you escape?" Kurt rubbed at her wrists gently.

A tiny laugh escaped her despite the night's horrific events. "Remember 'Houdini and His Two Beautiful Assistants'?" She waited for him to nod. "I didn't forget everything you taught me." She gave him a small kiss.

Kurt frowned, thoughtfully. "I remember you almost dislocated your shoulder trying to fit into that contortionist's box." He rubbed her shoulders, checking for damage as she shook her head, patronizingly. "What was it Lumi called you after that episode?"

Rachel turned tight lipped as she grimaced. Until that very moment, she'd completely forgotten the pet name her aunt had so graciously gifted her with. "I don't remember," she lied.

"Shouldn't lie in a church." Kurt's breath was warm in her ear as he leaned in close to her. The light bulb was practically visible over his head as he leaned back slightly, "Brezel." His grin spread from ear to pointed ear.

Rachel screwed up her face. _Brezel_...Pretzel. Leave it to her Blue to rummage up a childhood memory she'd have just as soon left forgotten. Still, as she smirked up in his face, she had to admit, a grown Kurt Wagner whispering a pet name in her ear created far different feelings than a seven year old Wagner chasing her through the camp with it. She felt her face flushing and despite their current circumstances, vaguely amorous emotions began bubbling up in her.

She was just about to make a reply when the door swung open. Instinctively, she clutched onto her Blue. Kurt pulled Rachel behind him, fully prepared for a fight if Ben Gammon were to appear. He stopped short at the sight of a priest standing in the doorway instead.

For a long moment, the three stood still in the silent attic. "Mrs. Wagner?" he asked, cocking his head in sight alarm.

_Please, Father, please. He's not what he looks like._ Rachel squeezed Kurt's arm and stepped around. "Father O'Toole," she spoke, motioning to the demonic looking mutant at her side. "This is my husband, Kurt Wagner."


	25. A Matter of Faith and Loyalty

Missy Sue – Thanks for the awesome review! Well, here are some answers to your questions! But, there are still questions left to answer!

Meadowlark – Wow! Thank you. I am very flattered you think so highly of this coupling! Dizi Jenny? I will have to look that fic up some time! I love to read NC fic as much as I like to write it!

Webby – As always, I am most grateful to you and your red beta sword! Without it, we'd be lost in a sea of commas and incorrect grammar! And Brezel? Well you _ought_ to love her nickname! ;-) (btw – Webbs is my beta and the writer of very entertaining NC fic herself!)

X-nerd - "That horrible little swine" - I LOVE it. And, yup he certainly is. But he didn't get his way this time! Please – all that praise is going to give me a swelled head. LOL. But I won't turn down more reviews! Haha!

Yzak – Adamantium claws on the roof? Please! That poor old church has enough repair work to be done!! Besides, the way Logan feels about her – he might have just kicked her off the edge! LOL!

* * *

Daniel charged after Gammon in a fury as their footsteps echoed crazily in the hallways. He lost Ben around a corner and stopped short as the hallway dead ended into a T intersection. But before he could debate which direction to run, Logan rushed past him at a full sprint.

"This way!" the feral ordered and charged to the left. The pair turned the last corner to see an exit door slamming shut. They threatened to break the door off its hinges as the two bounded out after their fugitive.

Jumping in his car, Ben locked the doors and turned over the ignition. Daniel grabbed the door handle and pulled on it in vain, banging on the window.

Wolverine stopped in front of the BMW as it started to scream to life. With a smirk, his claws sprang forth and dove into the flimsy metal hood protecting the engine block. The car shrieked like a living thing as the X-man gutted it. Several swipes of his lethal claws and the car sputtered and coughed, then fell silent. Coming around the side, he pushed a stunned Daniel aside. "'Scuse me, Bub," he offered and with little effort, the metal-sheathed claws ripped the driver's side door into ribbons as easily as they had torn apart the engine block.

He yanked Ben out of the seat and rammed his back against the mangled door frame. "Goin' somewhere?!" he snarled.

Ben's adrenaline was pumping madly as he landed a solid square punch on Wolverine's jaw only to watch him shake it off like a lover's slap. "You're freaks!" he yelled, struggling to get free. "All of you! Nothing but freaks!" He turned his wild eyes to the tall red head who'd been Rachel's friend through so much. "You know Rachel _married_ that blue furred abomination?? She let it get her pregnant??" He spat at Daniel. His spying had revealed that Daniel was no more a friend of mutants than he was.

"You talk too much." Logan growled and returned the punch. Immediately, Ben fell limp. Hoisting him over his shoulder, Wolverine pulled out his X-comm and called the Elf to let him know the good news.

Daniel was not able to focus on the conversation as his mind kept replaying Ben's furious tirade about Rachel. He was still oblivious to anything going on around him when Logan's voice shook him back to the present. "Rachel's took a pretty bad knock on the head. Kurt's going to take your car and get her home where we can check her out. We're takin' Gammon with us till we can figure out what to do with him. You can either call a cab and go home or come with us in the jet. Your choice, but I imagine Rachel would be glad to see a friendly face." He turned and hefted Ben's dead weight around on his shoulder and called Storm to arrange a pick up.

Daniel stood quiet and stiff as anger drew a deepening scowl on his face.

* * *

Rachel wanted to burst into tears at this scene. She was absolutely sure the good father was about to go into hysterics. Stepping forward, she tried her best to do damage control.

"Father, please don't panic." she begged, stepping in front of Kurt. "He's not - he's not a demon; he's just a mutant. Please..." She clasped her hands in front of her, almost a plea to Father O'Toole to believe her.

Gently, but firmly, the mutant pulled her from in front of him and put her back to his side. Kurt refused to hide behind his wife's skirts. He'd been hated and feared on sight all his life. It was difficult, but it was his lot in life. One, unfortunately, Rachel had to share with him as his wife and the mother of his children. Standing motionless, he watched the priest approach; he knew he was less frightening if he let others approach him.

Father O'Toole slowly closed the space between them. Once close enough, he held out Rachel's coat to her. She took it with a quiet "Thank you," as Nathaniel looked Kurt up and down. With a small, unexpected smile, he finally spoke. "That is a beautiful crucifix, son." He motioned to the shining emblem of Gracie's love that hung around Kurt's neck.

Out of reflex, Kurt's unique fingers touched it. For the first time, he was glad it constantly worked its way out of his shirts and uniform. "Danke, Vater," he whispered with cautious hope.

From far below, the sounds on a choir drifted up to them. A beautiful hymn telling the story of Christ's birth filled the silence around the trio.

Father O'Toole motioned over his shoulder. "That's my cue." His small smile grew into a grin. As he turned back towards the door, he stopped and turned another warm smile back on the couple. "If you change your mind about joining us for Mass, you are _both _welcome to stay." Without any further explanation or cajoling, he opened the door and slipped back downstairs.

For a long moment, the two stood in stunned silence at Father O'Toole's unbiased acceptance of Kurt. Rachel turned to her husband and reached up to run a light finger over the crucifix that had been his first Father's Day present. She smiled against the tears that were springing forth in her eyes. In response, Kurt took her hand in his and smiled as he kissed it.

"Merry Christmas, Brezel," he smiled, then stopped still as his finger glided across a smooth metallic texture on her hand. His breath froze in his throat as he looked down and found her wedding ring on her finger, proudly gleaming up at him.

"Merry Christmas, Blue." Rachel let a tear escape as she smiled at Kurt's expression. She rubbed the underside of the band with her thumb and relished in the comforting feel of it back in it's proper place.

She gasped out loud as he suddenly swooped her up in a fierce hug. "Meine Ehefrau" she heard him whisper with profound and intense emotion.

"Mein Ehemann," she whispered back one of the few German words she'd ever managed to learn as she wrapped her arms around him tenaciously. Feeling him tighten his hold on her even more, she grinned like a giddy school girl as more happy tears slipped down her cheeks. Pressing her face into the crook of his neck, she laughed for joy.

Finally, they stepped apart and looked to the door, holding their hands together. Rachel sniffled and brushed away any remaining tears with the back of her free hand. But, when she took a step forward, she swayed dangerously and the room began to spin. Her hand went to her head as the knot under her scalp started throbbing in time with her pulse again. She felt a wave of pain induced nausea wash over her.

"Liebe!" Kurt cried out as he caught her. He pushed her hand away from her forehead and tried to examine that contusion. "I need more light," he growled, frustrated with his limited abilities. He led her out onto the landing of the stairs where the bright fluorescent lights made Rachel wince.

"Blue, I'm fine. It's just a little bump; it's nothing," she insisted. Nonetheless, she still clung to him, partly for support, partly for comfort. "Mass is starting..." Her voice seemed too far away to her ears.

But Kurt would not be dissuaded. "Nein, Rachel. You might have a concussion. We need to get you back to the mansion so you can be examined." Before she could object again, he had an arm around her, leading her down the stairs. "We can come here to Mass another time. Perhaps when there are fewer people." It was wonderful to the point of tears that the Father had been kind enough to invite him to worship, but most in his parish probably would not share his open-mindedness.

Managing to avoid prying eyes, they made it back to Father O'Toole's office unseen. Once there, Rachel handed Kurt his coat and put hers back on. She gathered up her purse reluctantly.

"I really think you're overreacting, Kurt." She had to try at least one last time, but her Blue would not be dissuaded.

"You will be fine once Jean or Doktor McCoy say you are fine." His tone was soft, but firm. He was about to speak again when his X-comm beeped. His pulse picked up and his tail whipped around as he identified the signal. "Ja?"

"We got 'im, Elf." Wolverine's voice was fierce and proud.

Rachel felt herself beginning to tremble, the night's events starting to overwhelm her. She sat down on the sofa as her legs discreetly gave out. She could hear Kurt and Logan talking. She assumed they were discussing Ben and what to do with him, but the pounding in her head was drowning them out. She didn't even hear Kurt the first time he called her name, only turning her head towards him when she felt his hand on her arm.

"Liebe, Logan and Daniel are going to deal with Ben for the moment. We are going to take Daniel's car back to the mansion." He helped her to her feet. "Let's go, Meine Schatz."

Rachel shook her head, despite the pain and dizziness it brought her. "Not yet." She insisted, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to focus. She pulled the scarf away from Kurt's neck, revealing the inhibitor collar tight around his throat. She laid her fingers on it and stared at the offensvie piece of technology with blatant anger. "First we have to get this damn thing off."

* * *

When Kurt steered Daniel's white Jaguar into Rachel's garage, they found both the Audi and Bentley sitting exactly as they had been left. A call to Storm revealed that Beast had made headway against Ben's computer, but he was likely to be there for awhile yet, hacking through the intricate and brilliantly mastered systems. She had retrieved Daniel and Logan, along with an unconcious Ben Gammon, in the Blackbird They would all be waiting for Kurt and Rachel at the mansion.

The couple stood, face to face, in the quiet of Rachel's apartment. Kurt had tossed her bags in the back of Jaguar, except for her briefcase which she was now clenching in her hand. With a look of concern, the furred German frowned at her. "Brezel, what's so important in here?"

"Brezel? You're just not going to let that go, are you?" She half laughed at her newly reclaimed nick name. She took a step away and set the leather briefcase on the kitchen's gleaming, high grade marble counter top, then flipped open the lid with her thumbs.

Kurt moved closer behind her, putting his hands on her hips as he leaned over her shoulder. "Are you ever going to let go of 'Blue'?" he whispered in a mild joke. She had called him 'Blue' from the time he was five years old.

Rachel turned around slowly and looked up at him with dark, solemn eyes. Reaching up, she cupped her husband's cheek and shook her head. "Never again."

His grin evolved into a warm intensity as leaned into her touch. After a moment, he took her hand in his, studying it as if he could read their future in it. Finally, he planted a soft kiss in her palm.

Squeezing her fingers around his hand, she gave a nervous sigh and turned back to her briefcase. She took the small brightly wrapped package, the one Tracy had retrieved for her out of the briefcase. Staring at it for a moment, she ripped the green foil paper off and opened the box. "Let's get that thing off." she ordered, pointing to the collar in disgust.

Kurt frowned again, "How?" Hank's inspection of it had left them a little leery of trying to remove it without in depth study.

Rachel drew out a vial and syringe from the gift box. "How much are you weighing now a days, Blue?" Her hands trembled uselessly as she clenched them in frustration.

"About 180 – why?" His tone turned suspicious as he eyed the needle. He released Rachel and took a step back.

"Because there is nothing Ben Gammon can do that I can't _undo_." She set her jaw firmly as she handed him the vial and syringe. "Measure out 5 cc's of this."

* * *

Ben Gammon looked as though he had 'fallen down' a few times, Ororo mused as Logan dragged the man's limp form onto the jet and tossed him onto the benches in the back. He took a sentry position nearby just in case the Gammon came to during the flight. Daniel followed behind them, a dark expression marring his brow. The African beauty frowned at his countenance, wondering what could be going on behind those blue eyes.

Daniel was silent as he strapped into the seat next to Storm and got ready for take off. It wasn't until they had been in the air several minutes that he finally inquired to Ororo, "How's Rachel?"

"She's fine. She's with Kurt; they are going to meet us at the school and bring your car." The jet made a graceful bank as it slipped through the night sky towards home. She studied him for a moment. His expression was difficult to read now. His jaw was set in a firm line, his eyes hard and dark. Yet, there was a weariness playing on his features. As if he was at war with himself. She reached out and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. "Everything is all right now."

Daniel swallowed hard and shook his head. "No, it's not."

* * *

27 lay on her bunk, staring at the rough cement ceiling far above her head. She swallowed the urge to vomit for the hundredth time that day. She had barely been given a chance to recover from the near fatal miscarriage she'd had, before being impregnated again. So far, this one seemed to be going 'well'. Two months into gestation, tests showed things were going swimmingly.

Turning her head, she stared at the uneaten meal they had brought to her. Sitting up, she forced herself to uncover the metal food tray and immediately lost her battle with nausea. She leaned over the edge of her bunk as the smell caused her to retch up the precious little that had been in her stomach. After several minutes, she dragged herself upright and wiped off her mouth with the paper napkin that had been provided for her current meal. Slowly, she edged up to the tray sitting on a small stand in front of her. With a hopeless expression, she picked up her spoon and began to eat. They weren't allowed forks here, knives either for that matter. Partly because they might turn them into weapons. Partly because the suicide rate had tapered off dramatically once they were removed. She stared down at the metal utensil, ladened with what she assumed was a potato soup of some kind. She went through her mantra again.

_My name in Maggie. I lived in Florida. My mother's name is..._

She stopped, a tear sliding down her cheek. They'd taken that too. She couldn't remember her mother's name now. She had already forgotten the street they lived on and the town she'd grown up in. Now, she couldn't even remember her own mother's name.

Dropping the spoon back in the bowl, she pushed it away and rolled over and her bunk, facing the wall. Idly, she wondered how long it might take to starve to death in a place like this. But she knew that wasn't going to happen – not so long as she was useful. She put her hand down on the unwanted abomination in her belly. More tears slipped through her tightly shut eyes. They had taken her life - but they wouldn't let her die.


End file.
